All the Right Friends in All the Right Places
by Baroness Kika
Summary: AU: Peeta Mellark's life has been an uphill battle. The view from rock bottom was intimidating. But he manages to find strength in the little things, like the anodized aluminum chips he wears on a necklace, and his friends. The next phase of the battle is becoming strong enough to never fail them again. Banner by Ro Nordmann (remove spaces): archiveofourown .org / works / 754855
1. Prologue

******(I have no claim whatsoever to the characters from 'The Hunger Games'.)**

**Prologue**

Her cell phone rings Gale's reserved ringtone right as she's leaving the cleaners. Katniss picks it up and presses it to her ear, careful not to drop the heavy garment bag in any of the puddles the recent rainstorms have left behind. She'd never hear the end of it from Madge if she had to get her dress dry cleaned _again_ before the wedding. She was already lucky enough this cleaners knew how to get red Sharpie ink out of chiffon and crinoline.

"Yes, nervous groom? What can I help you with today?" Katniss says as she tucks the phone between her ear and her shoulder.

"Madge wanted me to make sure you picked up your dress," Gale's voice says. He sounds out of breath and flustered.

"I texted her the second I walked into the cleaners! I'm walking out with it now, and it fits fine. The color is good, but combined weight of all the fabric is heavy as hell, so it better not be above 70 degrees on Saturday, or else I'm going to be melting by the time the reception rolls around," Katniss responds. With her one free hand, she manages to open the back hatch of her car to lay the bag flat across her suitcase so it won't wrinkle en route.

"I know it, but Madge is losing her mind. You need to get your ass here already, Catnip, or one of us is gonna lose it and this whole thing will end in disastrous ruin," Gale says with a heavy sigh.

"Picking up the dress was my last stop. I've got my coffee and a snack for the road already, so I'll be there soon."

"Two hours?" Gale asks.

"Less if I don't run into traffic. Don't freak out on me yet, buddy, I'll get a shot into you the second I walk in the door and all will be good," she says as she starts the car.

"Right, right," Gale breathes, and it takes everything Katniss has not to laugh at him.

"You're both wishing you'd eloped right about now, aren't you?" she says, not being able to help herself. He laughs in response.

"You have no idea. Right, get driving, I'll see you in a bit," he tells her with one last sigh.

"Going, going. Oh, wait…is Madge's bridesdude coming to the bachelor party tonight? Because if he is, I need to change the reservation at the steak house," she asks him, cursing at herself for almost forgetting. When Gale asked his best friend of ten years to serve as his "Best Woman", his fiancee had nearly burst a gasket at having an uneven distribution of attendants in their collective wedding party. A few weeks ago, however, she'd asked a male friend of hers to serve as her "Man of Honor", thus ending the perpetual squabble between her sister, Tessa, and Gale's sister Posy over which of them was the official Maid of Honor. It had irritated them equally but by that point Madge just didn't care anymore.

"Nope, it's still just you, me, Rory, and Vick. Vick's still bitter that we're going to the best brewhouse in the state a month before he turns 21, you know," Gale says with a laugh.

"Well, we needed to have a responsible DD! And besides, you were the one who picked the date, if you'll remember correctly," Katniss teases. "Any reason why this guy isn't coming?"

"He's working late to make up hours before taking time off for the wedding, and then he and Madge..um, have some plans or something. You remember him, don't you? He was in your year at school…" Gale asks.

Katniss knew she should remember Peeta Mellark better than just remembering him being 'that blonde kid on the wrestling team', but she hadn't been terribly observant in high school. To be fair she still wasn't terribly observant towards anyone she didn't already have a set relationship with. It's something she's working on, but between this wedding and her looming thesis deadline, she doesn't have much time for self-improvement exercises.

"Yeah, sort of. I suppose if we're going to be paired up all night long I should probably try to remember more than I currently do about him, though, huh?" she asks, getting frustrated with just sitting in her idling car.

"He's a good guy. Madge says you two will have tons to talk about," Gale assures her.

"Sure thing. I'm gonna hit traffic for sure though if I don't leave now…"

"Then get going already! I'll see you soon," he tells her. "And…thanks again, Catnip."

"Sure thing, Hawthorne. You didn't really expect I'd let anyone else stand up there with you on your wedding day, did you?"

"'Course not," Gale says before he disconnects. Katniss checks her blind spot before pulling out onto the street and steering towards the highway bound for her hometown.


	2. Give Me Hope in the Darkness

_But the ghosts that we knew will flicker from view_

_And we'll live a long life_

_So give me hope in the darkness that I will see the light_

_Cause oh they gave me such a fright_

_But I will hold as long as you like_

_Just promise me we'll be alright_

-Mumford & Sons

* * *

"Alrighty, Miss Geena, that's the end of our session…feeling better?" I ask in my best soothing voice, slowly raising the light dimmer to bring Geena back to reality. She whines and flails about, like she always does when I end the session.

"You speed up the clock in this room, I'm just sure of it, Peeta," she murmurs, rubbing her eyes.

"I promise you I don't. That shoulder feeling better?" I ask with a laugh.

"So much. Is someone coming in right after me, or can I take a minute?" she asks.

"Take all the time you need. You were my last today," I tell her with a smile. She murmurs a thank you as I step into the hallway and make my way towards the sink in the break room. Finnick and Annie are standing in front of it, the water running over both of their hands as they whisper to each other. Finnick makes a face at her, and Annie giggles softly. I can't help but roll my eyes—the day spa we work at discourages employee fraternization, but the pair of them have been ignoring that little regulation for weeks now.

"I could have been Effie for all you two lovebirds know," I say aloud, snapping them out of their reverie. Finnick clears his throat and Annie shakes off her hands and reaches for the paper towel dispenser nearby.

"Don't be like that just 'cause I asked her out first, Peet," Finnick says with a wink, standing aside so I can wash my hands. Annie's face flushes furiously.

"You know I'm not gonna say anything—I just don't want Effie to see you two like that and decide to kick you both to the curb, that's all," I tell him as I let the lukewarm water run over my fingers.

"What he meant was 'thank you', I'm sure," Annie says, elbowing Finn in the stomach. "Excited for your days off?" she presses after a moment. I turn the tap off and reach for the towel dispenser as I shrug.

"Yeah, it should be fun. Gonna be a little like a high school reunion, though. I was helping Madge finish the seating chart a few days ago, and I couldn't believe all the names I recognized. Can you even imagine throwing a wedding for 300 people?" I say. Finnick shudders.

"I don't even _know _300 people," he says, and Annie nods.

"Still, it was good of you to step up for your friend. Take lots of pictures, okay?" she says as she grabs one of the tiny bottles of water we hand to our clients after their sessions, and pulls the break room door open.

"Sure thing. Thanks for covering me tomorrow, I appreciate it!" I call out to her as I grab a bottle for Geena. She's stepping out into the hallway, her hair a mess and her eyes a bit dazed when she sees me. I escort her into the lobby, and put my hand on her shoulder.

"Make sure to ice your rhomboids tonight, okay? Particularly that left side, it was a doozy today," I tell her. She nods enthusiastically.

"Your hands are gems, Peeta, really. I don't have cash, do you mind if I leave your tip on my card?" she says, taking a big gulp of her water.

"Whatever is easiest for you, Miss Geena, as always. I appreciate the thought," I tell her.

"I'll see you in a few weeks!" she singsongs as she makes her way to the front desk, and I retreat back my room to change out the linens and close everything down so I can leave for the day. It's an easy clean up that only ever take a few minutes. I pull my cell phone out of my back pocket and turn the sound back on when I'm grabbing my messenger bag from its spot hidden under the table. I've got three new messages from Madge, unsurprisingly, and a missed call and voicemail from my mother. Neither of them ever seem to remember my schedule, let alone that I can't answer the phone and give a decent massage at the same time. I decide I'll call Mom back later; I scan through Madge's messages before flipping the light out and clocking out. I disregard the mass message sent to the entire wedding party about remembering cash for the reception bar, as well as the one reminding her bridesmaids to make sure their dresses are pressed and dropped off at her house by noon the next day. The only one that pertains to me directly is the last one.

**Coming to the meeting tonight? O.L.L., 6:30?**

**On my way there now**_, _I type back quickly.

I toss my work shirt in the trunk of my car before I slide behind the steering wheel. Effie absolutely hates it when we smell of cigarette smoke, so it's habit now even though I won't be back to work for four days. I crumple up the empty pack of Marlboro Reds when I press the last stick from the pack between my lips and press in the cigarette lighter in with my thumb. I draw in a long exhale after I light it, and the nicotine makes my fingers tingle. I hated smokers growing up. Now I get jittery when I go without a cigarette for longer than a couple of hours.

Our Lady of Lourdes church is only two miles from the spa, but I'm able to smoke two cigarettes in the time I'm stuck in traffic on the way there. I stub out the filter on the bottom of my shoe carefully before tossing it into the trash can outside the church and wipe my feet before heading inside. A few people are wandering out of the chapel after an early evening mass, but I keep my head down and take the stairs down to the basement two at a time. The door to the meeting room is slowly swinging shut but I'm able to catch it right before it latches.

"Sorry, traffic stinks out there," I say as a dozen or so faces look up at me. Madge is holding a seat next to her for me with her purse and nods me over to it silently. I drop into it right as Maysilee clears her throat.

"I'm so happy to see you all here tonight. We have a new face or two with us, and to you specifically, I say welcome. Thank you for your attendance. I'll begin: I'm Maysilee, and I'm an alcoholic," she says calmly, and waits for everyone to reply in turn. "I've been sober for close to ten years, and every day has been both a struggle and a blessing. I'm lucky to have the support of my family and friends, and for the last two years, I've been blessed to lead this meeting. I've heard some wonderful stories of success and some heartbreaking stories of tragedy. But every story is important. Every day is important. And I'm so proud of all of you for having the courage to be here today."

A few people politely applaud. Madge reaches over and squeezes my knee.

Maysilee quotes a passage from the Bible about strength and conviction, and reminds us that the message remains true, even for people who find solace in different faiths or interpretations of a higher power. She reminds us that every version of our own personal higher power is important and will make the difference between our successful sobriety and our lapses. I've been attending her meetings for almost a month and can already quote her speeches word for word.

"I always open up this part of the meeting for anyone who'd like to speak. I believe…Madge, are you going first today?" she says, looking over at the woman next to me, who smiles solemnly. I stand up to let her past me and she sighs before she begins.

"Hi…I'm Madge, I'm an alcoholic," she begins. Everyone greets her in reply. She takes another shaky breath before she presses on—Madge doesn't much care for public speaking, but she does it when she has to.

"Addiction runs in my family. I know I'm not the only one here who has their genetics working against them. Even if you can't pinpoint exactly who it is, it's likely someone in most of our families has at least one aunt or uncle, someone close to them who always seems to drink a bit too much at reunions. Someone who can't quite control their mouths once the wine starts flowing. I had several of those relatives growing up—it wasn't until two years ago that I realized that I'd become the next one.

"I started drinking in high school with my friends. Not so different than most high school kids, right? And I had every lie in the book to explain away why I came in past curfew, why I crashed at friend's houses without telling my parents until I stumbled home, completely hungover and exhausted the next day. But I was young, you know—it didn't seem like a big deal at the time. Then college rolled around, and even more of my friends wanted to party with me. I got really, really good at beer pong…everyone wanted me on their team. And it probably doesn't surprise anyone that I couldn't tell you what I did on my 21st birthday, even if I saw a video of it. But I made it through college, and then my first year of grown up life in my grown up job, and still, I didn't think anything was even close to being wrong with the way I lived. I was young and independent, and that seemed like all that really mattered.

"But, I had a breaking point. We all do at some point. Mine cost me my job…'cause they don't let teachers keep teaching after a DUI. That's it. It's done. I was out of a job the second I turned up at work after my friend bailed me out, no questions about it. I was heartbroken, because I loved my job. So, not surprisingly, I started drinking even more to make myself feel better about everything. Any of this sound familiar to anyone?"

Several people nod their heads slowly. I fiddle with a loose string on the hem of my undershirt. Not because I'm trying to be rude; I already know the ins and outs of Madge's story. I was one of the friends in high school she drank with. We went to the same college, until I dropped out junior year. We met up a few times for drinks here and there, but by and large we'd gone our separate ways after I dropped out of school.

"I waited until the end of the school year, and appealed the principal's ruling. I pled my case in front of the school board, saying I would do absolutely anything to get my job back. And they agreed to put me back on the very bottom rung—student teaching all over again at a different school. But only if I worked for it by getting sober. So I did it…kicking and screaming, of course, but I did it. I wasn't serious about it. I relapsed, of course, and it was even worse because I didn't get caught. I started dating someone who drank socially—he still does—and he bailed me out of a few tricky situations. But eventually, even he got sick of it, and he left me. That was almost rock bottom, but not quite…rock bottom was one of my students asking me if I was sick, because I smelled like strong cough syrup. She asked me the same thing for twelve straight days, and every day, I told her I felt fine. On the thirteenth day, I didn't drink my breakfast, and I yelled at each of my students to the point the principal called me out of class, and firmly told me that my job was on the line again. I probably deserved to be fired again on the spot—but he'd been through AA. He got it. He took me to my first serious meeting, and eventually he became my sponsor. I've been sober ever since. That was 1 year, 4 months, and 26 days ago. I haven't had a drink since. Now, I'm a sponsor myself, and I managed to earn back the trust of the guy I dated when I was at my worst…and I'm marrying him this weekend.

"My story might not be as bad as some of yours. Or maybe it's worse. I know I probably don't deserve to have a job…maybe if there weren't a teacher shortage in Title One schools, I'd rightfully not have one. It may absolutely terrify some of you to know there are alcoholics teaching your kids, your grandkids, your nieces and nephews…and for some of you, that's not news at all. Every student I have walk through the door of my classroom will have an alcoholic as a teacher—but I owe it to them, to myself, to my soon-to-be husband, my boss, my sponsorees—to at least be a _sober_ alcoholic," she says with finality, ducking back towards her seat before the applause in the room can really flourish at all.

Maysilee asks for volunteers to come up and speak. No one else I know speaks so I pay a bit more attention to their stories. They're hard to hear as always, but I'm thankful they're telling them. I've never in my life been afraid to speak in front of a crowd before now. Madge tells me I'll have to get over it eventually: it's an important part of my recovery to tell my story. But it's not a step I'm ready for, and Madge says that's okay for now.

By 7:30, Maysilee is leading us through the Serenity Prayer and we're good to go. I finally get a chance to give Madge a proper greeting hug as people file out, snatching up the last of the stale donuts and acrid coffee as they go. All I want is a cigarette, and I can tell Madge does, too. I offer her one of mine when we're the allotted ten feet away from the church's main entrance.

"Did I stutter too much?" she asks after a few long drags. I shake my head.

"You did great. Just like always. Feeling better now that that's off your chest?" I ask her.

"I always do. I just figured with the wedding this weekend that going through it again—you know, reaffirming it all now that I'm making this next big step and all—it'd be a good way to wrap up my 'single' life," she says with a shrug, ashing off the end of her cigarette.

"What else do you need me to do? Any last minute bridal freak outs I should be privy to?" I ask casually. To be honest, I haven't been privy to many. It's largely by design; Tessa and Posy have handled the bulk of her really bad bridezilla moments. I'm mostly there to keep the pair of them from getting too territorial over the title of honor attendant, and fill out the rest of the wedding party. And in all honesty, having something else to focus on for the last several weeks (other than the crushing weight of the first few months of sobriety) has probably kept me from losing my own job. There's nothing Effie hates more than a cranky therapist, no matter how good their excuse for being so is.

"You already modeled your suit for me. You didn't fuss about wearing a fuchsia tie. You kept Tessa and Posy from acting like dogs fighting over a bone all last week and most of this one. Offhand, I'd say you need to be a 'man of honor' more often, Mellark," she says with a wink.

"There are very few people I'd actually be willing to do this for, Madge, and you know it," I say, stubbing out my cigarette and walking her towards the parking lot. A devious look crosses her face suddenly.

"So…Katniss got in this afternoon," she says coyly.

"Yeah? How's she doing?" I say, trying not to sound like the guy who harbored an unrequited crush on her for six years in middle and high school.

"Fantastically. But I'll let her tell you all about it…part of your duties as my man of honor is to entertain the best woman, you know," she mentions again for the twentieth time since asking me to do the job. I roll my eyes at her.

"Is it really responsible for my sponsor to be pushing me towards the girl I pined after during the years I started drinking? There seems to be something off kilter about that," I tell her with a sigh.

"You aren't that kid anymore, Peeta, and you know it. You and Katniss have both changed…besides, she's finishing up her thesis, so it's kind of a miracle that she's taking time off for this at all. She's probably going to be a bit distracted all weekend. Don't take that personally, it's just the way she is," Madge says.

"Yeah, yeah…want to grab some coffee before you head home to the land of bridal explosion, or do you have more to do?" I tell her as we get to my car. She drives only when absolutely necessary these days, and she lives close enough to this church that she usually walks to these meetings and I drive her back home. And unlike her, my rock bottom had absolutely nothing to do with driving while I was too messed up to know better.

"Actually I think I've got a date with my bathtub and a cup of hot tea…sorry," she tells me as she climbs into the front seat. I shrug off her apology and start the car, idling just long enough to light another cigarette.

"Probably for the best. Can't have our little bride being cranky for the big family brunch tomorrow morning like her groom no doubt will be," I say with a smirk. The Hawthornes had insisted on this little tradition, and Madge had trouble saying no to Hazelle when her own mother was so uninterested in anything having to do with the wedding. Madge hadn't been exactly _malicious _when she had promised to hold the brunch the morning after Gale's bachelor party…but it had been a humorous 'coincidence'.

The drive to the apartment she shares with Gale takes less than five minutes. She turns to me when I pull up in front of her building and smiles at me nervously. "Have I told you thank you lately? For everything you've done over the last few weeks?"

"Sure you have. And I keep telling you…it's really nothing. Especially when you consider…well…" I murmur, thinking about the little medallions I have tucked in my back pocket alongside my wallet. AA believes wholeheartedly in celebrating milestones: the silver 24 hour chip, the red 1 month, the gold 2 month, and the green 3 month were her gifts to me to celebrate another 30 days without drinking and I feel lost if I don't have them with me. Their purpose is to keep us grounded and motivated; remind us to take everyday as it comes and remember that everyday is worth it, no matter how desperate of a day it might have been. I know I'm not the only one who clings to them like freaking lifelines when they're really just little scraps of aluminum. As if she knows what I'm thinking, she puts her hand delicately over mine and gives my fingers a squeeze.

"Call it a wash?" she suggests. I nod appreciatively.

"Get up there and relax already, sheesh. But don't even _think _about guilting me into a massage…I'm off duty," I tell her when she turns to get out of the car. She smirks before giving my hand one last squeeze and bounces her way up the stairs to her front door. She waves me off when she unlocks it and heads inside.

My own dinky studio apartment is ten minutes away and I burn through two more cigarettes on the way. The tar coats my tongue uncomfortably, and suddenly all I want is a hot shower and a cold gin and tonic on the rocks. I toss the last of my cigarette out the window and scrape the top of my tongue against my front teeth as I remind myself that I get the former when I get home, but certainly not both.

My cat Sammy skitters across the apartment when I open the front door. She wasn't ever really _my _cat to begin with, and I think she can tell that I'm more of a dog person. I just didn't have the heart to take her to the animal shelter last year after…well, everything. I go ahead and take the hot shower I desired in the car and brush the taste of cigarette tar out of my mouth. I start to feel a little less unhinged when I pull on my pajamas and settle in for the night. I'd promised Madge I'd bring a couple of trays of my father's famous cinnamon rolls to the brunch in the morning and they'd need to proof overnight, so I wander into my tiny kitchen and begin to mix the ingredients from memory. Sammy finds her way to the top of my fridge and flicks her tail as she watches me work. Maybe I remind her of Dad in this moment.

My cell phone rings again, but it isn't Madge or anyone from work. I wipe my hands on a kitchen towel before sliding my finger along the touchscreen to answer the call, and greet my mother.

"Hi, Mom…sorry I didn't call you back earlier," I tell her honestly, putting the speaker on so I can continue mixing and kneading the dough.

"That's okay. I just wanted to check in…I keep forgetting what your schedule is like this week," she tells me. Her voice sounds a little far away, but that's not really unlike her.

"I worked my regular morning shift, and a few extra hours this afternoon so that I'd have the whole weekend off. Remember, I'm in Madge's wedding this weekend," I remind her patiently.

"Oh, right, right. Is that going to be…well, will that be tempting at all for you?" she asks, mostly because she knows all too well what I'm going through right now.

"I won't be the only one not drinking this weekend. Madge is my sponsor, after all. I'll be okay," I tell her.

"Good, good. I'm proud of you, baby, you know that, right?" she tells me, sounding a little more like the mother I've gotten to re-know in the last several months. It's still a hard thing to wrap my mind around, though—she was nothing like this when I was growing up.

"I know, Mom. And I appreciate it. I'm proud of you, too," I tell her. "I'll be pretty much all wrapped up with everything for the wedding by Sunday afternoon…do you want to get dinner that night?"

"That'd be wonderful, honey. I want to hear all about everything. Can we do after 7, though? I have my meeting at 5:30, unless you want to go with me…you might need one after a big weekend like this, you know," she says. I shrug, even though I know she can't see me.

"Maybe. I'll let you know, okay? If not, dinner for sure. My treat," I respond.

"Okay, honey. Get some sleep and call me if you need anything," she tells me.

"I will. I…love you," I say back. After years of her not being in my life, the sentiment still sounds strange in my mouth.

"Love you, too, baby. Night night," she replies and hangs up.

I mix together the cinnamon mixture and roll out the dough carefully into several big sheets. My hands move automatically again now that my mother's voice isn't distracting me from the task at hand. When I'm done with them, I put the cookie sheets in the fridge to proof safely without Sammy making a late night meal of them and start to settle in to go to sleep.

I hadn't made up converter sofa from when I'd woken up this morning, so I'm able to just flip off the lights and wedge one of the windows open quickly before settling under the blankets. The only time Sammy doesn't seem hesitant to come near me is when I'm in bed and as if on cue, she hops up and settles next to my hip on top of the covers. She starts to purr when I stroke her third eye idly, trying to convince myself to close my eyes and let myself drift off. Something about baking something that was so intrinsically my father alongside talking to my mother on the phone doesn't sit well, though. I'm sure I'll be up for several hours trying to sort my head out. Before the need for a drink takes over again, I shoot a text to Madge, hoping she's still awake and I'm not disturbing her.

**Should I have gone out with Gale and his friends tonight, as opposed to being a hermit?**I ask, hoping she'll see some humor in it and not immediately read my desperate attempt at starting up a conversation to get my mind off my yearning for a drink.

Her answer comes quickly. **I think you made the right call. Better to keep yourself away from temptation when you're still this early in your recovery.**

**What do you suppose the bigger temptation is—Katniss, or microbrews?**

**You cannot possibly still be hung up on Katniss after not seeing her in seven years…can you?**

It's a valid question. I remember the high school version of Katniss Everdeen rendering me speechless and dizzy when she'd walk past me in the hallway. I could never quite figure out why she had such an effect over me. But after so long, all I remember are bits and pieces: silvery grey eyes, a seemingly constant scowl on her plump lips, a long braid slung over her shoulder. She might look nothing like I remember her looking these days.

**Probably not. I think I just hate that I can't trust myself enough not to order a drink that I haven't gone out to eat other than cheap dinners and Chinese take-out places in months. Particularly when I could have had a seriously good steak out of the deal.**

She takes longer to text back this time. **How bad is it right now, 1-10?**

**7…maybe 8**_, _I reply without missing a beat.

**Chips?**she responds.

I fumble over to where I'd set the tiny stack of tokens on the side table that doubles as my night stand. **Right here in my hand**_, _I type to her.

**Good. You're doing great, Peet. You've made incredible progress. I'm so freaking proud of you I can hardly stand it.**

**Thanks, Madgie.**

**What triggered this one?**

**My mom called while I was making the cinnamon rolls for tomorrow. Still have trouble with the two of them sitting in my head at the same time.**

**You'll get there, I promise. I can come over if you'd like, or you can come crash on the couch…**

**No, I'm already settled in. And it's more like a 6 now, anyway.**

**Good for you. You'll call if you need to?**

**Yes'm.**

**Good boy. Go to sleep. I'll see you bright and early at Hazelle's.**

**Right. Thanks.**

**Anytime.**

I squeeze my eyes shut and focus on the feeling of Sammy's fur under my left hand and the cool anodized aluminum in my right. I remind myself again and again that I am powerless over my cravings, but am completely in control of my actions. I breathe deeply, and wait for the craving to pass. It does, eventually, and I'm able to drift off to sleep.

I dream of a handle of gin, my mother's rolling pin, my father's hands coated in flour and flecks of dough, and a long, dark braid.

* * *

**A/N: Thank you a thousand times over for reading to this point! This character interpretation of Peeta is one that has been in my head for quite sometime and I know I'm far from the only one to look at alcoholism in the Mellark family. I think it's an important story to tell.**

**Reviews and favorite/follows are my very favorite thing. This story has a lot of content already written and I hope to update it weekly or even bi-weekly based on reader interest. Please let me know what you think. I appreciate it in advance.**

**My beta reader _sohypothetically _is the queen of my fangirly heart. A thousand thank yous, as always, go straight to her.**


	3. I'll Fake It Through the Day

**(As with the characters from 'The Hunger Games', I also own none of the lyrics I use as chapter titles.)**

_I'll fake it through the day _

_With some help from Johnny Walker Red _

_Send the poison rain down the drain _

_To put bad thoughts in my head_

-Elliott Smith

* * *

Gale greets me at the door of his mother's house when I tap on it at 9 the next morning. To his credit, he doesn't look much worse for the wear; if Madge's text message was to be believed, his bachelor party had only ended a few hours ago. All the same, he's nursing a large cup of coffee and his hair is wet from a shower.

"Holy shit, man, those things smell incredible. Did you really make them?" he says, nodding to the still steaming cinnamon rolls in the basket in my hand. I nod quickly.

"Yep. Didn't frost them, though, so I'm hoping your mom has a corner I can use in her kitchen without me getting too much in her way," I tell him, sliding past him to enter the house.

"For those things you can take over the entire kitchen for all I care," he says, following after me like a dog wanting a treat. Madge shakes her head from her position at the kitchen island when she sees us.

"I hope our kids get your metabolism, Hawthorne, because I just saw you polish off half the bacon that was _just _taken out of the oven. At this rate, there won't be any food left when everyone else gets here," she says with a quick shake of her head. Gale kisses her cheek sweetly and murmurs something about her seriously underestimating his mother.

As if on cue, Hazelle breezes into the kitchen hauling a sack of potatoes, and plops them down in front of her oldest son. "I need these peeled and grated if you want hash browns with everything else, honey. Oh, Peeta! I didn't see you, I'm sorry!" she says. I kiss her cheek softly and smile at her.

"I was just asking Gale if I can take over a spot on the counter to frost these cinnamon rolls before they get too cool," I tell her. She immediately tosses a few empty bowls into the nearly overflowing sink and motions for me to use the now clear space.

"Where are Rory and Katniss?" Hazelle says, mostly to herself. "They need to get started on these dishes sometime between now and the eventual heat death of the universe."

"Take it easy on them, Mom. They had a lot more than I did last night, and I know they're gonna be feeling it for hours," Gale says, squeezing Madge's shoulder as the pair of them toss the skins of the potatoes they're peeling into a plastic grocery bag. To his credit, Gale doesn't talk much about drinking in front of Madge in order to be as sensitive as possible about her sobriety. Apparently his brother and best woman haven't quite gotten the same memo.

"They should have thought about that last night, then. I have 25 people about to wedge their way into this house for a meal and I'll be damned if I don't have an empty sink for them to put their plates in they've finished eating," Hazelle says before she flits back out of the kitchen and we hear her tromp up the stairs. Gale shakes his head.

"I almost feel bad for them…almost," he says and steals another kiss from Madge.

"How was your last night as a single guy?" I ask casually to distract myself from the knowledge that an apparently hung over Katniss Everdeen will be heading down here in a matter of minutes.

"A little much, even for me," Gale laughs.

"I don't want to hear this, do I?" Madge scoffs. He kisses her cheek again.

"They lived up to their promise of no nudity whatsoever. Does that make you feel a little bit better?" he says to her sweetly.

"A little," Madge says coyly.

They're taking the potatoes to a box grater and I'm rinsing out my now empty bowl of frosting when I hear footsteps at the kitchen entrance.

"Alright, Peeta's taking care of the dishes…I'm gonna go back to sleep until everyone gets here," Rory's voice says gruffly. I turn around just in time so see Hazelle push him towards me.

"Peeta absolutely is _not _doing your chore. If you're not going to help cook, then you do dishes, and that's the end of the story," she says firmly. Rory grumbles and nods at me when I step out of his way so he can put on a pair of dishwashing gloves. Then I see her.

She doesn't look like she did in high school, that's for certain. She looks better. Her hair falls around her shoulders in dark waves and her skin is tanned and flawless. Her pajama pants are slung low across her hips, and it's everything I can do to keep from staring at her exposed navel as she grabs the dish towel Hazelle hands her and reaches out for the first mixing bowl Rory hands her to dry. I manage to avert my gaze and arrange the cinnamon rolls on a large platter before she catches me staring at her.

"Peeta? Would you be a dear and brew another pot of coffee for me? I need to get started on more bacon since _someone _ate half of what I'd already cooked," Hazelle asks me and I nod quickly. I pour the last of the half empty pot into a carafe that she points me towards and dump out the grounds. Rory stands aside to let me refill the pot at the sink. As I'm turning back around, Katniss's gaze finally meets my own. I nearly choke on my tongue, but I manage to smile at her softly.

"How've you been, Peeta?" she asks quietly, almost as if she's afraid to speak any louder than a whisper. I remember that feeling a little too well.

"Alright. You?" I respond quickly.

"Ugh, I've had better mornings. Ask me in a few hours when I have some grease in my stomach," she says with a roll of her eyes and nudges Rory with her shoulder. I give her a halfhearted smile and dump the water into the coffee maker. When I turn around to the island after I flip the button to start the brewing cycle, I see Gale and Madge share a significant look. I quirk my eyebrow at Madge questioningly, but she just shakes her head quickly in my direction.

Hazelle doesn't assign me another task right away, so I take the opportunity to sneak out back for a smoke. I rub my eyes as I perch on the back steps, trying to coax the last of my sleepiness out of them and puff away in silence. Over the last few weeks, the Hawthornes have done nothing if not make me feel like part of their family and I'm incredibly appreciative of this. But it's been years since I was part of a functional, happy family that actually _wanted_ to spend time together, so the feeling is still very foreign. Not to mention it makes me think more about my dad than is probably good for me.

"I wouldn't have pegged you as a smoker," a voice says from behind me. I whip around and see Katniss holding a couple of coffee mugs, one of them specifically held out in my direction. "Madge says you just take it with half and half. Give it a taste and see if I put too much?"

I take the mug from her with a slightly shaky hand and put it to my lips. It's exactly how I take my coffee when I mix in the half and half myself. "Tastes perfect, thanks. Sorry, I can put this out if you don't like the smell or bothers you or whatever," I say, motioning to my cigarette. She shrugs and settles down on the step next to me—a little closer than I expected her to, if I'm honest.

"No, doesn't bother me in the slightest. It just surprised me...you seemed so straight-laced in high school," she says, taking a sip of her own coffee that I can see is straight black. Her words surprise me, like she had some concept of who I was in high school. I don't think we ever said more than two words to each other.

"I wasn't...well, this is a new thing. It might be odd to never have smoked before in my life until 25, then suddenly puff down half a pack a day, but whatyagondo," I say, forcing myself to slow down with this one. I rub the back of my neck with my free hand and try to come up with anything else to say. Luckily she takes me off the hook.

"You should have come last night. The food was amazing—you totally missed out," she says.

"Yeah, I had to work later than normal. Sounds like it was a good time," I say, trying to sound nonchalant. Even with the cigarette smoke curling around my face, I can smell alcohol seeping out of her pores. I wonder how many mornings I smelled like that and everyone was too polite too point it out. I'm sure it was more than I'd really care to recall.

"Well Gale had fun. That's all the matters, really. Jesus, I can't believe my best friend is gonna be married by the end of the weekend. I feel way too young for...wait. Madge isn't knocked up, right?"

I can't help but laugh. "I imagine if Gale knew she was he'd have told you by now. As it is she hasn't said anything to me, so I think you'll be spared being 'Auntie' Katniss for a while yet," I chide. I'm amazed how easy talking to her is.

"Oh thank _God_," she says as she swills down a large sip of her coffee. She quirks her eyebrows towards me and our gazes meet. I'm surprised it's not more awkward. "So, how are you doing, really? Can't say I really bought your 'alright' from before." She smoothes the leg of her pajama pants down and her elbow brushes against mine quickly. I hope she doesn't notice the way my skin turns to gooseflesh with that simple and unintended contact.

The question she's asked is a tricky question for a recovering alcoholic to answer. Madge tells me the best way to answer it is to be honest, but vague. I take a last pull on my cigarette before stubbing it out on the bottom of my shoe. "It's...well, I've had better years than the last two, that's for sure. But things have started to turn around recently, so there's at least that," I say. This answer she seems to accept. "How about you, then, if we're calling out disingenuous answers?"

"I am legitimately hung over, thank you very much. But as for the rest of the time, and at school specifically…well, it's grad school. Most of the time I'm squirreled away in the library for hours on end, to the point I don't realize the sun has set. But I'm in the homestretch of writing my thesis, so ideally this is as tough as it'll be for the rest of it," she tells me.

I nod solemnly, as if I weren't a five semester drop out who never wrote a paper longer than three pages in my entire school career. "But I imagine it's, you know, worth it…right?" I ask.

She shrugs. "It will be. Just kinda hard to see it now, you know. But I can bore the pants off you with my thesis topic another time. I was actually mostly sent out here to tell you Hazelle needs an extra set of hands that actually know how to do something with food other than burn it," she says with a wink.

"You really don't cook at all, huh?" I ask her, oddly curious by what her answer might be.

"Not unless you count EasyMac," she says with a smirk. "Coming?"

"Hard to say no to Hazelle," I respond with a shrug.

She nods emphatically. "Glad I'm not the only adoptive child of hers who thinks that way."

She holds the door open for me and it's everything I can do to not sneak a peak of her rear as she leads me back to the kitchen. Once we're there and she's back to her dish drying task while I'm staffed out to cut up slices of melon, the entire atmosphere of the kitchen seems more…relaxing, I suppose. Even more inviting that it usually is. I feel an odd little smirk spread across my face and feel Madge's eyes on me a moment later. Her eyebrows are raised practically to her hairline as her pupils dart back and forth between Katniss and me.

'What's that all about?' she mouths to me silently. I just shrug in response. But somehow, my ever-present yearning for a drink is ticking downwards just a bit. And I kind of can't stop smiling.


	4. Older and Married with Me

…_Wouldn't you like to be older and married with me?_

_Oh say, wouldn't it be nice to know right now that we'll be_

_Someday holding hands in the end_

_All our broken plans will have been_

_I will kiss you soft so you know_

_It is love from the first time I pressed my lips against yours_

_Thinking, "Oh, is it love?"_

-HelloGoodbye

* * *

When I wake up on the morning of Madge and Gale's wedding, the first thing I notice is the smell of rain wafting into my nostrils. I hadn't left the window open much that night, but the scent of rain is one of my very favorites. Then it hits me—the wedding ceremony is supposed to take place outside.

As if on cue, my phone rings, and Madge's face smiles up at me from the contact screen. I take a deep breath because I know exactly what's about to happen. I slide my finger over the phone to connect the call and hold the phone a couple of inches away from my ear.

"_Peeta! _It's _raining! _It's not supposed to _rain _on my wedding day!"

"Can I take a shower at home, or should I just bring my stuff and get ready at your place?" I respond groggily.

"You can take a shower in the _rain _for all I care, but be quick about it because I'm about to murder Tessa and Posy!"

Yep. This is what I signed on for being the only male in a female bridal party.

"I've got a fresh pack of cigarettes with your name on it and I'll even forgo not rubbing your shoulders if you just. _Stop_. Yelling," I tell her, holding back a deep belly yawn.

"Please get over her, Peeta…and hurry?" she begs, her voice instantly softening.

"I'm on my way, I promise. Don't do anything stupid like shave your eyebrows off until I get there, okay?" I tell her. She whines in response before she hangs up.

My suit is already at Madge's, but I take a few moments to grab the soap from my shower, a fresh razor, and my toothbrush before I change into a pair of jeans and sweatshirt to drive over there in. I make sure Sammy has plenty of water for the day and grab a fresh pack of cigarettes from the carton in my freezer before heading out the door and to my car. I almost text her again to ask her if she's eaten, but I swing through a coffee drive-thru next to the Walgreens I run into before getting on the actual road to her apartment.

I'm a third of the way up her stairs when Posy comes out the front door and slams it behind her. She's not dressed yet, but she does have curlers sticking up out of her hair. She huffs and pushes past me with not so much as a greeting and I can tell I have a long day of girl-drama ahead of me. After I let myself in, Tessa points me towards Madge's room with a roll of her eyes before she heads out of the apartment as well. I reposition everything in my hands so I can tap on the door and turn the knob when she calls out to me to come in…even though, technically, her words are "God _damn_ _it_, Posy, stop being a brat and just go to your mom's house already!"

I let myself in and dodge a pillow being thrown in my direction. "Hey now! All I did was bring you coffee!" I tell her, holding out a cup to her. The barista had thoughtfully written on the side _Congrats on your wedding day, Madge! _When she sees it, tears start leaking out of her eyes.

"Why do you have to be so damn sweet all the time, huh?" she tells me as she begins to sob. I put everything down and pull her into my side for a hug.

"I dunno, I spent enough years being a drunken asshole, I figured I'd give this look a try for a while. So why did you kick the pair of them out?" I ask, rubbing her back slowly as she sniffles into my shirt.

"I thought they'd be polite to each other just for this _one day_, but Tessa started in on how our Mom still doesn't think Gale is good enough for me, and Posy got understandably defensive, and they just wouldn't back off of each other…ugh, Peeta, this is such a nightmare," she tells me, wiping her eyes.

I could tell her that maybe it hadn't been such a good idea to plan an outdoor wedding in early March with less than six months of prep time with bridesmaids who hate each other, but it doesn't seem like it'd be at all helpful. Instead I plant the tips of my fingers on the back of her scalp and work them in little circles. She groans gratefully.

"Why don't you lie back for a few minutes and drink your latte and eat your muffin, and I'll call the pair of them and set them straight? They can meet us at the venue at 3, and if they don't behave we'll just promote a couple of guests who look like they'd fit into their dresses," I tell her jokingly. She gives a halfhearted laugh and I kiss the top of her head. "Seriously, though. I'll be right back."

I grab a terry cloth towel from the hallway linen closet, roll it up, run it under the faucet in the kitchen, and pop it into the microwave. While it warms up, I text both Posy and Tessa that they need to get their heads out of their asses and be there for Madge regardless of their issues with one another and warn them severely that if they aren't in the bridal suite at the venue by 3, there will be serious hell to pay with me. The microwave beeps and I take the piping hot towel and toss it back and forth between my hands while I head back into Madge's bedroom. She quirks her head at me when I set the towel down to pull a couple of small bottles out from my back pocket. I palm one in each hand and put them both behind my back.

"Pick a hand," I tell her.

"This is not a day for a relapse, Peeta, no matter how stressed I am," Madge warns me gravely.

"Woman, if I was hell bent on relapsing today, I'd have brought a lot more than minis! Pick a hand already," I tell her. She reluctantly points to my left, and I hold it out to her. "Well, I would have pegged you for more of a lavender kind of gal, but eucalyptus works just as well."

I coax her to sit up and lean her head back. I unfurl the towel and shake it a few times to that it won't burn her skin, and drape it around her chin, cheeks, and forehead, leaving only her nose and mouth uncovered, the way the estheticians at work do to begin facials. I pour a couple of droplets of the essential oil into my hands and rub them together briskly before cupping them over her nose and mouth. "Breathe deep," I tell her gently. She takes a shaky breath through her nose. "Again," I repeat a few times until I notice her lungs actually seem to be taking on decent amounts of air. I take the towel off her face, and rub her shoulders.

"Feeling better?" I ask.

"Yes," she squeaks.

"Good. Don't tell anyone at the spa I did that for you, that's a $10 addition to your massage, not to mention it's supposed to be a spa secret," I tell her, which makes her laugh.

"I need to find you a nice girl to snatch you up, or else I'm liable to leave Gale for you, you know," she tells me teasingly.

"So you've mentioned," I say, trying not to think too much about Katniss. "What time do you need to be at the salon for your hair and makeup, 'cause you know I'm no help in that arena…"

"An hour or so. I only got up so early because I had to help Posy with hers," she replies, swilling back her coffee.

"Did you already shower?" I ask.

"Not yet," she admits.

"Right. I'll take all of three minutes in the shower, so let me go first and then you can soak in the tub for a little bit before we get going if you'd like. What's your venue's contingency plan for rain?"

"They'll set the chairs and everything up right inside the main entryway for the hall, and the florist will decorate from there. They called Hazelle this morning to confirm everything with her and she called me to tell me she'd handle everything else so all I have to do is get ready," she says with a sigh. "Isn't my mother-in-law supposed to be a witch to me? Why is she treating me better than my own mother, who I'm still not sure will even be _at _my wedding?"

Aha. There it is; the _real_ stressor in this entire thing. "If your parents really don't show up, then it's their loss, not yours. It'll be sad, yes, but you have so many people who love you, and know you're perfect with Gale…just remember that, okay? It'll be alright, Madge, I promise," I tell her gently. She stands suddenly and puts her arms around my neck.

"I should have had you around from the very beginning of this whole thing," she tells me.

"Well, I wouldn't have been this much help until a few months ago. Probably for the best you snatched me up after I laid off the sauce," I tell her. "One day at a time, right?"

"One day at a time. And today is my wedding day," she says, a smile finally playing across her lips.

"Atta girl. Finish your muffin while I shower, and…oh, I almost forgot," I say, pulling a small box out of the plastic Walgreens bag, and hold it out for her. "There…nicotine fix without the smokey scent getting all over your dress," I say proudly as she wiggles the electronic cigarette out of the packaging. The look Madge gives me makes me wonder if she suddenly thinks I'm the new Messiah or something. She throws her arms around my neck again and I return her embrace tightly.

"Thank you, Peeta," is all she says. I grin at her when she pulls away.

"Come on, woman. Let's go get you hitched."

* * *

Despite all the drama of the morning, the ceremony goes off relatively smoothly. Madge's parents show and smile politely while she walks herself down the aisle. Posy grins happily as her brother says his vows to Madge. Tessa wipes the scowl off her face just enough to not completely display how bitter she really is, but it doesn't matter: everyone's focused on how radiant Madge is, which is exactly how it should be. I take a quick peek at Katniss when the newlyweds share their first kiss and a few tears are rolling down her cheeks, but she looks beyond thrilled for Gale. I may not be quite as close to Madge as she is to Gale, but I feel the exact same way.

The pair of them are swept off for pictures, and everyone mills around for the reception hall waiting to be seated for dinner. Gale and Madge have opted out of a lot of the posed wedding party shots, which everyone seems grateful for. They'll be introduced formally at the reception while the rest of the wedding party members will be acknowledged in the speeches Katniss and I will make at dinner. I didn't tell Madge that I never actually wrote my speech because it would have just stressed her out more, but honestly, I didn't need to. I knew what I wanted to say and, with the exception of our meetings, I don't have a problem speaking in front of crowds. Particularly not when it comes to talking about Madge, who's easily the most important person in my life these days.

When I casually mention the speeches to Katniss, however, she looks terrified. She fumbles around in the small clutch she'd had sitting next to her water glass on the table and begins to look like she's panicking.

"Everything okay?" I ask casually.

"No! I…oh shit, oh shit…I didn't tear the page out of the notebook I wrote it in. I thought I did, but…oh shit, oh shit…" she stammers.

I place my hand gently on her shoulder to try to calm her down. "I can drive you back to Hazelle's so we can grab it, it's alright…we've got some time…"

She shakes her head violently. "It's back at school. We don't have four hours…oh, God, Peeta, did I just ruin everything?"

I don't mean to laugh at her, but after the stressful morning Madge had, I somehow doubt that Katniss stuttering over an improvised speech will feel like she's ruining anything. I try to tell her that, but my laughter seems to have chased her straight in the direction of the bar. I reach into my pants pocket and rub the first chip I find between my fingers before following her quickly to the bar. She slaps down her credit card and receives a shot of whiskey in return . She slams it back without even acknowledging my presence at her side.

"Katniss, I didn't mean to laugh at you, I'm sorry. But Gale and Madge won't care if you have to improvise your speech, I promise. They're just happy you're standing up for them," I tell her. The bartender looks at me to ask if I want a drink, and I shake him off.

"Look, you might have been the debate speech champion in high school, but I was _not_," she says, getting the bartender's attention again and motioning for another shot. She looks at me and she genuinely looks worried. "I spent two weeks writing that speech. I meant to input it into my phone, but I didn't have time, and…oh God damn it all, I hate talking in front of crowds to begin with…"

The bartender again asks me if I'd like a drink, so I ask for a glass of water to abate him and watch Katniss take her second shot. I try not envy the burn in her throat as the alcohol works its way down.

"I'll help you rewrite it if you'd like. Let's watch Gale and Madge come in and then we'll skip the salad course and piece something together for you. We'll be done by the time the entrees come out. This isn't something to stress yourself out over, I promise," I tell her. The bartender brings one more drink over for her, one that looks suspiciously like a gin and tonic, and she signs the credit card receipt he hands her. She nods slowly after she slides it back across the bar for him and looks around quickly.

"Suppose we have time right now?" she asks distractedly. I check the time on my cell phone and nod.

"Sure. Come on," I tell her and grab her elbow lightly. There's a balcony off of the large dining room that's mostly covered from the last few vestiges of falling rain. I imagine the fresh air will feel good on her now flushed cheeks. I try not to let my imagination wander any farther than that. We find a bench that isn't wet and ease down onto it. I pull up a note taking app on my phone while she sips her drink gingerly. "Right…you've known Gale forever, right?"

"Yeah. Since I was 12. He was 15. Our moms worked at the same hospital," she tells me. She makes a face at her drink. "If they were gonna cheap out and make everyone pay for drinks at this thing, they could have at least hired a better bartender. There's barely any gin in this."

I choose to ignore her comment, lest I do something stupid like ask for a sip to judge it for myself. "Right…do you want to talk about that at all? Your family's relationship?" I ask her.

She makes another face. "Not really. I had something in my other speech about how we used to babysit for my Prim, Rory, Vick, and Posy all the time—that was how we got to be friends, but that was about it on them. Then I talked about how he taught me how to use his bow and arrow that he got for his 16th birthday. He almost stopped when he realized I was better with it than he was, but he still let me practice with it. He got me my first one when I turned 14."

"Your mothers really let you have weapons like that as teenagers?" I ask with my eyebrows raised.

"There were all sorts of rules about where we could and couldn't use it. Hazelle always watched us when we practiced. Gale's had belonged to his Dad, and after he died, Hazelle wanted Gale to have something that belonged to him," she explains.

"Gotcha," I say, and punch a few more notes onto my phone. "You guys stayed really close even with the age difference, though, right?"

"Yeah," she says, and launches into another explanation about that. Before long my thumbs are on fire on the touchscreen and I've got a draft of a half-decent speech. By the time Rory comes out to tell us that Gale and Madge are about to be introduced, I'm handing her my phone to look it over. I can't help but watch her silver-grey irises as they scan over what I've punched into the app. When she's done, she hands the phone back to me and nods.

"Can I steal this back when it's speech time?" she asks as she gets to her feet, cradling the last of her drink in her hand.

"'Course," I tell her with a smile, and put the phone in my jacket's breast pocket. I hold the balcony door open for her automatically, not even thinking that maybe she's not the kind of girl who'd like that. But she smiles at me broadly, and even stands up on her tiptoes to give me a gentle peck on the cheek in appreciation.

"You're a lifesaver. Why weren't we better friends in high school?" she says as she shimmies into the ballroom to join in the enthusiastic applause when the DJ announces that Gale and Madge Hawthorne have officially arrived.

_Because, _I think, _I never could figure out how to tell you how crazy I was about you._

Gale twirls Madge in a circle and dips her. Katniss and I clap loudly for them just before the photographer nudges us forward to take a quick picture with them. Mine and Katniss's eyes meet again after the flash goes off, but just for a moment before the music starts and we're expected to participate in the first dance of the evening alongside the newlyweds.

"I'm not much of a dancer," I admit to her in a whisper as the DJ begins _Unchained Melody._

"Stick with me, kid. Dancing is one thing _I am _good at," she says with a wink. As she wraps her arm up and around my neck and we sway with the tune, the scent of rosemary and mint begins to overtake my senses. _She smells amazing, _I think to myself. _She's even more gorgeous than I remember her being. She's funny. She's kind. She even kissed my cheek when I helped her with something she was dreading._

_Shit…_

…_I'm _still_ in love with her, aren't I?_

* * *

**A/N: Y'all, I am BEYOND THRILLED by the feedback I've gotten so far about this story! Thank you so, so much for the follows and reviews; PLEASE keep them coming as this story is decidedly just beginning! It's my plan to update bi-weekly on Tuesdays and Saturdays from here on in, although there won't always be two chapters updated at a time.**

**Also, come play with me and my lovely beta _sohypothetically _on Tumblr. We don't bite. **


	5. Your Body Was Tanned, Your Hair Was Long

**A/N: I think we can all use a little bit of fluff after the events of yesterday in Boston. I genuinely hope everyone is safe out there and continues to stay that way. Please consider this an e-hug from me to you. Much love to you all.**

* * *

_Your body was tanned and your hair was long_

_You showed me your smile and my cares were gone_

_Falling in love filled my soul with fright_

_You said "Come on babe, it'll be alright"_

_I must have been a fool to the bitter end_

_Now I hold on hope to have you back again_

_-_The Killers

* * *

It's 2:00 am by the time I unlock the door to my apartment. The entirety of wedding guests had sent Gale and Madge off on their honeymoon with sparklers and Marvin Gaye blasting over the DJ's speakers, but it pretty much felt like my night had just begun. After breaking up one last cat fight between Tessa and Posy over who got to take home Madge's bouquet, it then took me three trips with Rory and Vick to get all the wedding presents into the back of Hazelle's car. You'd think after we checked over the 20-odd abandoned tables for left behind cell phones and cameras I wouldn't have forgotten my _own_ phone, but you'd be wrong.

Of course, by the time I realize this, I'm half naked in my apartment spilling cat food into a ravenous Sammy's food dish. I decide it probably just fell out of my pocket in between the seats of my car, but I'm way too exhausted to go back out and find it. I'm about to rid myself of my pants and crawl under the covers when Sammy hisses at the window by the front door and then skitters across the apartment when someone knocks. I barely believe my eyes when I look through the peephole to see Katniss standing on the other side.

"Um…just a second!" I call through the thin wooden door and grab my discarded undershirt and pull it over my head. I open and try to not look shocked to see her.

"Sorry it's so late, Peeta…it took like six texts, but I finally got the newlyweds to text me back your address so I could give you this," she says, holding out my cell phone towards me. I must be gaping at her, because she laughs softly.

"Oh, man…where did you find this?" I ask her as I palm the device. I can smell the rain picking up again and I wonder if I'm supposed to invite her inside. What's the etiquette when the woman you've been smitten over since high school pops back into your life ever-briefly to return a lost object in the middle of the night?

"Under your chair at the head table. I was literally climbing into the car when one of the cleaning staff waved us down with it in her hand. Good timing on her part, I guess," she explained.

"Wow…thanks, Katniss, I appreciate it. I figured I'd dropped it in my car, I probably would have panicked when I couldn't find it in the morning," I tell her, tucking the phone in my pocket.

"I know the feeling. Losing your phone is the worst," she says. As she finishes the sentence, a bolt of lightning dazzles across the dark sky and a roll of thunder makes us both jump.

"Shit, I'm sorry, do you want to come inside and wait for this to blow over? Seems like it's getting nasty," I tell her, finally standing aside enough to let her through the door if she chooses to. I see her hesitate for a minute before she steps into my apartment.

I'm instantly glad I'd just run the dishwasher and run a vacuum through the living area when I see her looking around appraisingly. I rub the back of my neck with my hand. "Sorry…didn't make up the couch this morning, what with Madge calling in a panic over Tessa and Posy's bickering. Lemme clean it up real quick so you can sit…" I say, rushing over to the couch and tossing my bed pillows behind it.

"Oh, don't do that! I'm not picky when someone is nice enough to let me wait out a thunderstorm in their place," she says and perches on the opposite end of the couch from where I stand. Another crash of thunder booms outside, followed by a loud thud from the kitchen.

"Damn cat," I mutter, heading towards the kitchen to weasel Sammy out of whatever hiding spot she's currently cowering in. I pick her up and cradle her like a baby as I make my way back to the couch to sit down.

"I wouldn't have pegged you as a cat person," Katniss says with a smirk.

"Yeah, me neither. She's not really mine, she belonged to—well, she didn't have a home as of last summer and I couldn't toss her in a shelter, so we've been reluctant roommates ever since. She's a pain during storms, though," I explain, stroking Sammy's third eye to keep her from clawing the hell out of my arm the next time a clap of thunder hits.

"I think all cats are. My sister had this awful, mangy thing when we were growing up—Buttercup, she called him—and he was wretched during storms. He was wretched all the time, actually, but especially during storms," Katniss says breezily. She leans back and props her feet up on my coffee table like she feels right at home. Her navy blue dress rides up a bit and exposes half of her thighs. I hope beyond hope she doesn't catch me staring.

"Um…did you want something to drink? Or eat? Or anything like that?" I ask quickly to distract myself from her exposed mid-thighs. Nudity doesn't bother me—I rub naked body parts for a living, after all—but something about her tanned skin is about to put me into a compromising position if I'm not careful here.

"Oh, God, no…they may have hired a shitty bartender, but the food was awesome. My dress stopped fitting right after just the appetizers," she says with a laugh.

We're quiet for a little while, but it doesn't seem particularly awkward. The storm rages outside and Sammy decides she likes Katniss's lap better than mine. After a few minutes, the girl on my couch looks at me funny.

"You know, you asked an awful lot about me over the last few days, but you haven't said more than three or four words about yourself," she says to me.

"Maybe I like hearing about environmental impact reports," I tease, trying to remember exactly what she'd told me her thesis topic was.

"Oh, please,_ I _don't even like hearing about environmental impact reports, and I've written fifteen thousand words on them! You know what I mean…all I've learned about you is you reconnected with Madge a few months ago and she begged you to be her man of honor to break up Tessa and Posy's bickering matches. I don't even know what you do," she says. She's so casual about everything—she seems like a totally different person than the sullen girl I pined after in high school. This "new" Katniss is even more appealing and it's frustrating the hell out of me.

"I—I'm actually a massage therapist," I tell her.

Her eyes open wide for a moment. "Huh," is all she says.

"I give everyone one free 'happy-ending' joke before it chaps my ass, so use it well," I tell her, trying to sound lighthearted despite how seriously I take my work.

"I wasn't gonna. I just want to add it to things about you that surprise me, that's all. Do you like it?" she replies.

"I really do. I, uh…well, I went to State with Madge for a while, but I dropped out halfway through when I couldn't figure out what I wanted to major in. I worked for my Dad for like a year before he pretty much forced me to apply for a trade school…I guess the muscular system interested me more than diesel engines, but it turned out to be great. I've been doing it three years now," I tell her, glad the casual quality of our conversations has returned despite the knot clenching in my gut.

"Well good for you," she says with a small smile. Then she winks coyly. "Don't worry, I won't ask you for one this visit."

"_This_ visit, huh? How often do you come home?" I ask. It sounds simple enough, but I'm genuinely interested in her answer.

"Not so often these days since I'm in the final phase of writing and editing. I don't really have classes anymore, but it's easier to write at school than it is here. Less distractions."

That I understand implicitly. It doesn't stop the knot from twisting a little tighter. Suddenly I want a cigarette about as much as I want to continue breathing. I eye my discarded pack on the corner of my coffee table quickly, but try to push it out of my mind. Somehow or another Katniss notices my dilemma, and nods towards the pack.

"Doesn't sound like that's dying down. Go ahead, it really doesn't bother me," she says, jerking her thumb towards a window to indicate the rainstorm.

"I don't usually smoke inside…" I say, my hand closing around the pack automatically.

"So crack a window. It's your space, do what you want with it," she says with a shrug. I pad over to a window and throw it open so I can blow the smoke outside. The awning overhead keeps the rain from splattering against the screen as I light up and take a deep inhale and tap the ash against an abandoned coffee mug.

"By the way…um, Gale mentioned your dad, um…passing away last year. I just realized tonight that must have been what you meant about having a crappy last year. I'm really sorry, if that means anything," she says quietly.

"T-thanks," I say. This isn't a topic I want to talk about at all. I'd rather tell her the in-and-outs of my addiction than talk about my dad's death right now. I stub the cigarette out on the bottom of the coffee mug and light another one quickly. All the same, I don't want to sound like an ass when she's offering me condolences. "I can't imagine you knew him at all, but he was a good guy," I tell her as I puff away, trying not to let the words tear at my heart too much.

"I didn't, no…but my father brought me a birthday cake one year from your father's place. I think I was, like, nine maybe. My father brought it home. It had trees and butterflies frosted on it. I remember it being so pretty that I didn't want to cut into it," she says.

It makes my heart ache. I remember spending hours perched on the kitchen counter, watching as swirls of colors came to life under my father's patient hands. He started teaching me, too, when I was in high school. My hands were never quite as steady, but I could emulate him well. "He was great at that stuff, yeah. He loved it," I say, taking a long drag to keep my emotions in check.

"If it, um, means anything: I know how it feels…losing a father, I mean," she says as she stares at her hands. I vaguely remember hearing about her father passing away when we were in elementary school. Now I feel like even more of an ass. This time the silence _is _awkward.

"That got really serious really fast, didn't it?" she says after a few minutes. I can't help but laugh, and nod in agreement.

"Just a bit," I say with a smile. I note that I haven't heard a clap of thunder since I lit my first cigarette. I turn around to look outside and can tell things are starting to peter out. Only naturally, not only am I no longer tired, but I also really don't want this girl to leave. Not that I can tell her that, of course.

"So, uh…when do you head back to school?" I ask, hoping that doesn't give much of anything away. Is it my imagination, or did she just sigh when I asked that?

"Wednesday. I'm staying at Gale and Madge's for a couple of days to keep an eye on things while they're off honeymooning, but I have to get back before Thursday morning for a meeting with my thesis advisor. Hopefully I'll finish the chapter I've been working on before then, or I'm in a world of trouble," she says. I suppose that explains the sigh.

"Gotcha. I'm sure things will be easier now that the wedding's over," I reply.

She shrugs. "Gale was pretty chill about everything. Honestly, it sounds like you took a lot more of the pre-nuptual crazy by agreeing to be Madge's bitch." Her smirk when she says it is irresistible. If she knew how badly I wanted to kiss her right now, she'd make a beeline for my door.

"That may be…but she's Madge, you know? It's hard to tell her 'no' when she needs something as much as she needed help with all this. It's actually been a fun little distraction from real life. Work'll feel so boring on Monday by comparison," I tell her, stubbing out the second cigarette and mostly closing the window before I make my way back to the couch.

She twitches her lips for a quick second like she's thinking hard about something. "When…um, when do you work this week?" she asks so quietly I'm not sure I've heard her.

"I go back to my normal schedule…Monday and Tuesday, then Thursday through Saturday. I'm off Sundays and Wednesdays," I say. I'm desperately trying not to read into this question the wrong way.

She looks at the window and I see her chest heave up and down a little bit. She turns back to me a moment later, and holds out her hand. "Can I see your phone?"

I pick it up from where I'd tossed it on the coffee table and hand it to her. She unlocks the screen, and I hear the clicking of her inputting some sort of information before she relocks it and hands it back. She nudges Sammy off her lap and gets to her feet.

"It's, um…it's pretty late, and it sounds like a good time to make a break back for the car. But I put my number in there…do you want to maybe go to coffee on Wednesday?" she says, fiddling with the hem of her skirt before smoothing the material back over her thighs.

"I'd…I'd like that a lot, actually," I tell her. I'm sure I'm gaping at her in wide-eyed wonder, but I don't care. A minute later she's on her feet heading towards my front door and I'm following her like a damn puppy.

"'Night, Peeta. Thanks for letting me hang out," she says as I open the door for her. My tongue feels like an anvil in my mouth.

"'Night, Katniss. And, um…Wednesday morning okay? At ten?" I say finally. She smiles broadly at me.

"Just shoot me a text with an address, and I'll be there," she says and trots down the cement stairs towards the parking lot. I watch her unlock a dark sedan, slide in, and drive off quickly before I bolt the door behind me and let my jaw drop to the floor.


	6. Now I'm Shining, Too

_I've seen the waters that make your eyes shine_

_Now I'm shining too_

_Because oh because _

_I've fallen quite hard over you_

_If I didn't know you I'd rather not know_

_If I couldn't have you I'd rather be alone_

_I never knew just what it was about this old coffee shop I love so much_

_All of the while I never knew…_

…_All of the while it was you_

-Landon Pigg

* * *

Usually the door of Wanderer's Coffee and Tea jingles when I open it, so I double take when it doesn't. Serenity, the cashier who also doubles as one of my favorite human beings of all time, grins at me when I keep looking back to figure out why it didn't.

"Suzanne took the bells off this morning. Isn't it fantastic? No more annoying jingle jangle!" she says with a quirky grin.

"Yeah, except I thought I came into the wrong place," I tell her.

"That's because you haven't had your caffeine fix yet. What'll it be today, dear? Tea or espresso?" she asks, grabbing my usual mug from its place on the shelf. I suppose in comparison to a bartender knowing my name and usual drink order, a coffee shop worker knowing the same thing isn't so terrible.

"Tea. I'll be here for a little bit," I tell her. She preps the tiny tea pot for me, but waves me off when I pull off my wallet.

"Free tea today for one of my favorite customers. Just don't tell Mika that I didn't let you pay when he gets here," she tells me. She seems to look me over quickly and a Cheshire Cat-like grin spreads across her face. "You've got a hot date, don't you?"

"What? How did you…" I stammer. She laughs at me.

"When you come in to hang out on your day off, you're in sweats and you've got a sketch pad under your arm. The button down shirt is a dead giveaway, Peet," she says, pointing towards my shirt. I shrug. A button down for a coffee date might be overkill, but I picked it deliberately.

"Yeah, well…unless she decides to stand me up, she'll be here in a few minutes. I didn't think a grubby orange State sweatshirt would endear me to her much," I say with a blush.

"You look adorable, don't be bashful. Do you know what she drinks, so I can have it ready for her when she walks in?" she offers.

"No idea. I've known her for years, but I don't really _know her _know her," I admit.

"Noted," she tells me with a wink. I take a seat at my usual table and sip my tea slowly. I see the door open a few times out of the corner of my eye, but I try not to keep looking over, lest I look too excited when she walks in. Now that Serenity has pointed out my state of overdress, my heart is already pounding in my ears out of sheer nerves. I pull out my phone and fiddle it to keep myself busy while I wait.

"Nice shirt," Katniss says, and I nearly jump out of my chair. She's so silent when she walks.

"Thanks. I won't even yell at you for scaring the crap out of me for the compliment," I tell her, trying to make my hands stop shaking.

"Sorry. Too much time in a library, I suppose…I've gotten really good at walking around silently so I don't disturb the other grad students who aren't as focused. What's good here?" she says with a shrug as she strings her purse around the back of the chair opposite me.

I point to Serenity behind the counter. "Tell her what you've got a hankering for and she'll make you something awesome. It's sort of her shtick," I tell her.

"Do you have a crush on the coffee girl? Is this a conversation we need to have?" she says coyly. I snort out a laugh.

"Innocent flirting, I assure you. I don't mess with married women," I tell her and get up out of my chair to walk over to the counter with her.

"Where you going? Gonna try to pay for my coffee or something?" she says, looking at me like I've suddenly sprouted a second head. I feel my ears burn.

"Um…yes?" I stammer.

"Not necessary, Peeta. But it's sweet to offer. Just watch my purse for me, huh?" she says, snatching her debit card out of one of its pockets and waltzing over to the counter. I catch myself sneaking a peak at her rear as she goes, but look away quickly. This'll be one hell of an awkward date if she catches me doing that.

She returns with a steaming cup of something impossibly foamy a minute later. "She didn't let me pay anyway, so you trying to be all gentlemanly wouldn't have worked."

"That's Serenity for you. If she worked more than a few mornings a week this place would have already gone belly up," I say with a shrug. She's giving me a significant look from behind the counter when I catch her eye. I wink at her quickly. She gives me a silent thumbs up in regards to Katniss and winks back.

"Fair enough. So how was going back to work Monday?" Katniss asks as she takes a sip of her drink.

"Eh, fine enough. Beginnings of the week are always a little dead, so…did you get enough writing done?"

"Finished the chapter I was working on right before I got here," she says with a proud grin. "Only one more and my annotated bibliography to go and I'll be ready to edit for my defense."

"Masterfully done, Miss Everdeen," I tell her.

"I'm so ready to be done it's barely funny. At this point I'm just hoping I can schedule my defense around my interview in May," she says.

"Interview? Where?" I ask.

"The EPA in D.C. It's a long shot that they'd hire me, but getting an interview is exciting enough. My advisor knows a guy who knows a guy and set it up for me, so it shouldn't be too much of a scheduling concern, but it's always possible," she says nonchalantly. I don't know why, but I suppose I assumed she'd move home when she was done with school. Seems silly now. Not much for an environmental scientist with a Masters to do in this town that would actually pay her what she's probably going to be worth when she's done.

"That's great, Katniss, congratulations," I say, and sip my tea quickly. I'm usually pretty easy to read and I know I could give away my disappointment easily. Which is, of course, completely unfounded. I haven't seen her in seven years. She barely remembered me a week ago at the Hawthorne's. I have no claim to this girl whatsoever.

_Except that unrequited crush you've been harboring for the better part of a decade. _

She sips her latte thoughtfully and pushes a section of her hair behind her ear. "Can I ask you something completely unrelated to my thesis?"

"Sure," I reply. Anything to get my mind off of this stupid crush.

"Well...I know all about Madge and her…drinking. I coached Gale through a lot of it. If I'm honest, I was the one who told him he should end it because it was messing with his head so much. He was spending so much time worrying if she was going to end up dead in a ditch after some bender that it was literally giving him an ulcer. It killed him to do it, but he just couldn't take it. I think Madge is great, please don't get me wrong, and I'm so glad she's sober and they got through it—I mean obviously, I was a basket case during the ceremony, but it was because I was so happy for them..."

She takes a deep breath. I can't help but wonder if she realizes how much she's rambling.

"...and I get that that's why it was a cash bar at the reception, because what's worse than free flowing booze for a woman who's only a year sober..."

"Katniss? No offense, but is there...you know, a point to all of this?"

She flushes and ducks her head to stare at her hands.

"I, um...I just noticed that you didn't drink. At the reception. For your toast you had a glass of champagne in your hand, and you didn't actually drink it. It didn't even come close to your mouth. You raised it and then immediately gave it to a waiter..."

"You can just ask, Katniss. It's okay," I tell her. I wait for my chest to heave at this uncomfortable line of questioning, but it doesn't. I'm surprisingly okay.

"You're...you and Madge have a lot in common, don't you?"

I open my mouth to reply, but shut it again quickly. Instead I reach into my back pocket and pull out my wallet. Tucked inside the bill fold, as usual, are my chips. I pull out the silver one, and hand it to her.

"Madge gave me this on November 12th of last year. It marked my first 24 hours as a recovering alcoholic," I tell her, and wait for her to study it. After a minute, I press the red chip into her palm. "I got this one a month after that. She liked that it was red, because it was coming up on Christmas and thought it was extra festive. She gave me this one in January," I continue, handing her the gold chip, and then immediately the green one. "And this was my most recent one. I won't get my next one for a couple of months yet, when I'm six months sober."

She studies my chips like she's studying an insect, trying to figure out if it's gonna poison her or not.

"Madge is my AA sponsor, Katniss," I tell her.

She's silent for a moment. She bites the side of her lip between her perfect pearl teeth and nods.

"I'm sorry, this really wasn't any of my business. You didn't have to tell me all that if you didn't want to," she says nervously.

"It's okay. You asked me an honest question—I gave you an honest answer. That's the best I can expect from anyone, myself included," I tell her. "I'm glad you asked. And I'm glad you noticed that that glass of champagne didn't come anywhere near my mouth. I saw Gale physically restrain Madge from tearing the waiter that gave it to me a new ass after our speeches. It's the closest I've been to a drink since November, and it took a lot of willpower to not down it on the spot."

"God...how...I mean, you're 25, you and Madge both. How is it possible to be an alcoholic at 25?"

I shrug again. "It's a disease. It's possible to have cancer at 25. You can die of a heart attack at 25. Why wouldn't you be able to be a stone cold drunk at 25, especially when you have family history giving you a helping hand?"

"Oh...I guess I didn't think of that," she says.

"You don't have to. And that's fantastic. It's just the reality of my life, Katniss," I reply.

"I'm…I'm so sorry, Peeta," she begins. I wave her off.

"I didn't tell you so you'd feel sorry for me. That's not something you have to do," I tell her.

"Oh, no, I wasn't trying to…"

"It's okay, Katniss. Really. I know what you meant. You wouldn't be you if you didn't say what was on your mind," I tell her. _Shit. Did I just show more of my hand than I meant to?_

"I guess I am a little forward from time to time...I just...I was just morbidly curious. If it means anything...I don't judge you at all. And I don't judge Madge. I think you're both...very good, very brave people." She smiles at me with such a genuine sweetness that it's everything I have not to kiss her on the spot. I restrain myself—barely—and smile back. She studies my chips again quickly in her hand, and holds up the green 3 month one. "This one's my favorite color. The green itself, I mean. It's my favorite," she says as she hands them back to me.

"I appreciate that. You not judging me and Madge. Believe me, we do plenty of that all on our own." I pocket the chips again and rub my jaw quickly. "Can I ask _you_ something on a totally unrelated note?"

"I did just force you into breaking the whole 'Anonymous' part of AA, so it's only fair," she says.

"You used to—damn, how can I put this—in high school you were...so insular. I saw you around, you know, but I was always afraid to try to get to know you. I figured you'd never give me the time of day..."

"When did I stop being so self-involved and decide that human beings were okay creatures to be around?" She finishes for me with another smile. _This girl is gonna be the death of me if I don't kiss her soon, I swear._ "I couldn't tell you, honestly. I guess some time after I went off to school I just realized that it was really damn lonely depending on myself all the time. I knew I could count on Gale, at least, but he wasn't exactly close by and...I finally wanted friends the way I never did in high school. I wanted people in my life. I spent a decent amount of my undergrad still holding everyone at arm's length, but when I finally put some faith in people...I dunno, they haven't disappointed me yet, you know? People aren't the assholes I always thought they were," she says.

I can't pinpoint exactly what part of that did it, but I feel my heart swell. _Yep. I'm a fucking goner all right. _I'm sort of overcome, but I feel like I need to say something...anything...

Her cell phone rings. She looks like she wants to ignore it at first, but when she looks at the caller ID she thinks better of it.

"Sorry, it's my advisor...one second, it won't take long, I promise," she says to me and slides her finger along the screen. I hear her say hello to someone named Haymitch, but then it's just "Uh huh" and "Yeah" and "Um, okay..."

"Right. See you in a couple hours," she says finally and I feel my heart sink to my feet. _She's about to bail, isn't she?_

"Peeta, I'm so sorry..."

_Shit. Shit shit shit. I'm such a damn idiot._

"It's about the EPA interview…my advisor just got a call that they're trying to schedule it for the same week as my defense, probably as a way to weed out serious applicants. He's working on it, but he needs me back at school in case they try to pull something like demand an early phone interview...I need to head out," she says. She really does seem to feel bad about it.

"It's alright, Katniss, really," I say, hoping my disappointment doesn't show again.

"You have my number, text me or something and let me know...just text me sometime?" she says.

"Sure. Let me know you got back to school safe," I tell her. I'm instantly certain that this will probably be the last time I ever see this girl, but I can't help but check in on people.

"Of course. I really am sorry," she says. She grabs her purse and stands up. It's almost like she's waiting for something…

_Oh, piss it. Why not?_

I stand up and wrap my arms around her tightly. She feels amazing in my arms. She's warm and smells intoxicating. I don't want to let her go. And she isn't fighting me.

._..she isn't wriggling out of my grasp. _

Her phone goes off again and she sighs. "Sorry, that'll be him again. I'll talk to you soon, though," she says, finally breaking our embrace. My arms feel heavy and useless.

"Good luck. I'm sure you'll dazzle them," I tell her. She smiles genuinely and waves as she presses her phone to her ear and walks out of my life again.

God, I need a cigarette. Really, though, I want a drink. But a cigarette will have to do.

As if on cue, Serenity comes over with her purse in tow. "I have a ten minute, join me in a smoke?" she asks. I nod quickly and follow her out the door to the smokers haven off the side of the building. I've barely lit my cigarette and am about to offer her my lighter when her tiny fist makes contact with my bicep. She's glaring at me.

"You _idiot!_" she says. "Do you _not_ know the universal girl invite for a kiss?"

"Ow! Wait, what?! She wasn't..."

"I do not know that girl's name and I can tell you with 110% certainty she wanted you to kiss her goodbye! Ugh...disappointed in you, Peeta..."

I think back to Katniss's posture as she stood there, about how her torso pressed into mine, how her arms locked around my waist…

_Damn it. Why the _hell_ didn't I kiss her?_

* * *

**A/N...again: Hope these fluffy scenes put some smiles on faces. Today will probably be the last double-post day for a while, as the next several chapters get progressively longer and longer. I'm very nearly done with writing this story in the meantime and it's looking to be about 25 chapters in total, so there will be a lot more content coming your way very soon! Thank you to everyone who's posted a review and either followed or favorited...I appreciate it so, so much! See you all again this coming Saturday.**

**If you're wondering who the greatest Beta to ever Beta is, her pen name is _sohypothetically_. We both go by our FF names over on Tumblr, so come play with us. I bet my buttons we'll have fun.**


	7. Hold On, Hold On

_**One more massive hug goes out to the folks in Boston, West, TX, and around the world for the rest of this very, very rough week. Hope everyone reading this is holding up alright.**_

* * *

_I miss the pull of your heart_

_I taste the sparks on your tongue_

_I see angels and devils_

_And God, when you come on_

_Hold on, hold on, hold on, hold on_

-Matt Nathanson

* * *

Several days go by and I'm in a daze of Katniss. She's never _not _on my mind. I swear I see her at random intervals throughout any given day, but it's always some other girl with braided hair or olive skin, and I'm always disappointed.

Sensing something's up with me, Finnick and Annie ask me to hang out with them one random day after work at a bar nearby. I open my mouth to beg off, but instead decide to tell them the truth. As soon as the words come out of my mouth, I'm ready to cower in a corner while they judge me; but just like Katniss hadn't when I told her, Finnick and Annie don't judge me either. They were both sort of floored, I could tell. It was written all over their faces even though they tried to play it cool. But after a second, Annie kissed my cheek and hugged me, and told me she thought I was the bravest person she knew. Finnick suggested a coffee house instead, and we ended up at Wanderer's until the closing staff kicked us out. It's become a standing tradition pretty much every week since for the three of us. It takes my mind off of Katniss as well as my still near-constant desire for a gin and tonic.

And I _love_ it. I don't feel like a third wheel, or that I need to match them shot for shot to have a good time, like I did with my old drinking buddies. I have normal, sober, grown up friends. I _am_ normal. I _am_ sober. I _am_ a grown up.

But every time I see Finnick lean over and steal a kiss from Annie, my heart tugs a little bit and I back slide. It's absurd, but I miss Katniss. The handful of times I saw her over the wedding weekend left me feeling raw and desperate for _more_. Another embrace. Another whiff of her minty smelling shampoo. A turn on the dance floor to something not quite as cliched as 'Unchained Melody'. More Katniss. More. _More_.

I fill the void with cigarettes and overtime at the spa. I go to more meetings, even ones Madge has never been to before and I listen intently to everyone's stories. I become acquaintances with people over stale donuts and shared lighters and it gets easier to reside within my own skin. I feel like I'm not quite the terrible person I was for so many years.

Of course, Madge hates when I call myself a terrible person. She reminds me I was powerless over my disease and my actions, which all sounds wonderful coming out of her mouth. As I work my way towards the steps that involve admitting fault and making amends towards people I've wronged, I begin to feel smothered by the idea that there might be things I've messed up so completely that repairing them is untenable. Madge reminds me that I'm getting ahead of myself. That it takes time. That it _should _take time. Recovery is a marathon that I'll be running the rest of my life; I have to pace myself. Truly take it 'one day at a time', as obnoxious as that expression is.

So I cling to my chips, still utterly convinced they have some sort of magical power Madge isn't aware of. Annie makes jewelry in her spare time and offers to string them on a necklace so I can wear them over my heart. I let her: when I'm working I hear them jingle against one another under my shirt and it helps center me. My books fill up because my regulars are telling their friends they have to come see me because I'm _that_ good. For the first time in my adult life I have a savings account that I'm building up faster than I can blow through it at the bar. It's fantastic.

But I still can't get Katniss out of my head. I realize I don't _want_ to get her out of my head.

Which means I should really, you know, _call her _already.

True to her word, she texted me when she arrived back at school and had checked in with her thesis advisor. I sent her back **Good, glad to hear it. :)**

A fucking smiley face. If I could punch myself in the gut, I would.

I've drafted about a dozen messages to her in the three weeks since. Everything from **How's the writing coming along? **to **Have you done the interview with the EPA yet? **to just a simple **Hi. Sorry it's been a while, ****but I've been thinking about you.**_ Still_ haven't sent a single one of them. I can't figure out why my thumbs won't just press the Send button.

_What the _hell_ is wrong with me?_

Of course, my mom's most recent epiphany hasn't really helped matters much. She had me over to her place for dinner. She made stroganoff. My dad was the cook of the family growing up, there's no denying that, but I remember the stroganoff dinners she made when I was little as the best thing about her before her drinking started completely tearing our family apart. Dad couldn't ever best her when it came to that dish. After he took me and my brothers and left her for good when I was 13, he never even tried to emulate it—it was always a reminder of her. She hasn't lost her touch with it, either: it's as good as I always remembered it being, even though a red wine reduction is no longer a key ingredient along with mushrooms and homemade beef stock.

As we ate, she told me again and again how proud of me she was. She apologized a dozen more times for not being as brave as I am at 25 to get things together to salvage her marriage and stop being a witch to her children. In turn, I told her again and again that I've forgiven her for being a violent drunk all those years ago because I know she's changed, that she's the best possible version of herself now that she's two years sober. She'd told me how much she loves me, how grateful she is for the second chance that I've given her (but glossed over how heartbroken she still is that I'm the only one of the three of us boys to do so). I told her I love her, too, because I do—for the first time in my life, I really _do_ love my mom.

She hadn't meant to tell me. But _he _kept calling her to check in, and when she didn't answer her phone, _he _called again. Finally, she excused herself to answer the phone and I couldn't help the question coming out of my mouth.

"Who wanted to get ahold of you so bad, Mom?" I'd asked while we washed the dishes after dinner.

"No one, baby. Just…a friend…" she'd said. I knew immediately that wasn't a complete truth. Armarna Mellark was always a terrible liar, except when it came to my father and how much or how little she'd drank on any given day.

"Come on, Mom…who was it? Do you have some new guy in your life or something?" I said, completely joking. The guilty look on her face floored me. I almost dropped the plate in my hand.

_His _name is Chaff. He's in her AA group that meets on Wednesday nights at the Elk's Lodge. She never misses that meeting. She's asked me to go with her time and time again, but I work early on Thursday mornings and have never made it. She hasn't ever mentioned him because she didn't want me to think…well, she couldn't figure out how to explain what she was worried I might think. I smiled for her, because I _am_ a good liar when I need to be, and told her I think it's great. That I'd like to meet him when she's ready for me to. That he clearly makes her happy, and that's important. Few things in her life have ever made my mom happy other than drinking. That part of my statement, at least, was completely genuine.

But thinking back on it now a couple of days later, I realize how much it gutted me. The violent, verbally abusive mother of my past, the truly reformed woman of the present who is trying _so hard _to have a relationship with me after 13 years of zero-contact has a boyfriend. And I, who's still hopelessly infatuated with the girl who'd bewitched me in high school, am 4 months sober and can't grow a pair long enough to send a fucking text message. Despite said girl asking me to. Despite wanting to talk to her desperately. My mom has it together. My sponsor has it together. People who are newbies to my and Madge's group are tearfully talking in meetings about how wonderful it feels to earn the forgiveness of people they've wronged, and all the while I still can't get my tongue to work to formally introduce myself in front of the group.

_What the actual fuck is wrong with me? _

Anyway, I've wanted a drink ever since. To make up for it, I've gone from a half-pack-a-day smoker to nearly a full-pack. To top it off, I got written up for work for smelling like an ashtray. Fucking phenomenal.

Madge can tell something isn't right with me. Even if the feel of all four of my little medallions against my chest calms me enough at work to give the best massages of my career, Madge can still tell that something is off. After our meeting at Our Lady of Lourdes, she asks me to come to dinner with her and Gale at Hazelle's. I try to beg off, telling her I haven't been sleeping well (which is true) and have work in the morning (also true).

"I'm saying this as your sponsor and your friend, Peeta—I'm afraid if you go home alone right now, you'll stop at the liquor store on the way. Please…please have dinner with us. Hazelle's been asking about you anyway," she tells me. Her accusation stings, but I can't deny that I'm running on every bit of will power I have left to not drink when I'm not at work, at meetings, or hanging out with Annie and Finnick. I swallow over the lump in my throat and drive us there.

Hazelle gives me a bear hug when I walk in the door. She kisses my cheeks and for a moment I think she's going to say something gushing and embarrassing until Posy yells at her from the kitchen that something smells like it's burning. She saves it in plenty of time and we tuck in. Vick talks about his baseball scholarship at State. Rory's gotten a promotion at work. Posy has only a handful of weeks left in her high school career before she starts at State as well. Gale is silent except when he laughs softly at something Madge says as the pair of them gaze adoringly into one another's eyes, their newlywed glow shining bright as ever. A dinner with the Hawthorne family is full of love and appreciation at merely being with one another. It's everything my family dinners growing up never were. I'm just another member of the family here. And Madge is right—this feeling renews my faith in the tokens on my necklace, and somehow, the faith in myself.

Madge and I excuse ourselves after dinner for a cigarette. Gale comes with us and wraps his arms around Madge's waist as she puffs away. We're all quiet for a little while before he takes a deep breath and starts laying into me. I probably should have expected it, but it floors me.

"Peeta, about Katniss," he begins. Madge turns in his arms and looks at him as if to say _Don't. Not tonight._

I gulp again. "What about Katniss?"

"No offense, man, but you confused the shit out of her at the wedding. I can't figure it out, either…I thought you had a crush on her in high school?" Gale says.

"Gale, please…" Madge begins. She looks at me apologetically as if she needs to feel bad about telling her husband about my thing for Katniss all those years ago. I wave her off.

"Katniss is…she seems really great. I had a blast with her at the wedding," I say, trying so hard to be steadfast. My fingers yank the chain around my neck out from where it's tucked under my shirt so I can rub at the green chip idly. Madge notices. Gale doesn't.

"I'd say don't tell her I told you she talked to me about your coffee date the day she headed back to school, but that's just it…why aren't you talking to her? She didn't notice right at first because she had a big revision to do right when she got back to campus, but believe me, she's noticed now. You're sending her a ton of mixed messages, man, and she's my best friend in the world. If you aren't in the right place right now with everything going on in your life, that's one thing, but stringing her along is fucked up."

I look at Madge for help. She rubs her forehead and sighs. "You'd have to be blind to not see how the two of you were at the wedding, Peet. I thought it was a bad idea at first, but…she really likes you. You left an impression on her and that's kind of a tough thing for her to admit sometimes. She's…well, you're kind of hurting her feelings by not talking to her."

The ash on my cigarette has burned down to the filter. I light another automatically and inhale deeply.

"I…I don't know what to say…" I stammer.

"Yeah, apparently not," Gale mutters. Madge shoots him a death glare until he apologizes under his breath.

"I…I like Katniss, I really do. I did have a big thing for her in high school, but I figured she didn't know I existed. I was kind of thrown for a loop with everything at the wedding, honestly, even more so when she asked me out for coffee and gave me her number. I…oh, shit, Gale, does she think I hate her or something?"

"No. She's just confused. Katniss doesn't have the easiest time trusting people, and she's…well, she's worried she might have gotten the wrong idea about you. She hasn't contacted you because she figured she made the first move by giving you her number, which makes it your turn to make the next step or not," Gale tells me.

"Peeta, you know I get it. You're four months clean, and staying that way is a big thing to be focused on. You're _right_ to focus on it. And we're all proud…you know how proud of you we are. But if focusing on staying sober and entertaining the idea of…well, dating someone isn't something you think you can handle right now, you just need to let her know so she stops wondering about it. It's only fair," Madge says, putting a hand over my shaky one.

_Katniss likes me. Katniss Freaking Everdeen likes me. She thinks I don't like her. Of course she does…I wimped out of kissing her and have given her the silent treatment for three weeks. Why would she think anything less? _I think as I puff away at the nicotine stick in my hand and feel a headache begin pounding away in my temples.

"I'm not trying to be a dick, man, really. Like I said—she's my best friend—I don't like the idea of her getting hurt," Gale says steadily.

I look him in the eye and nod. "I'm sorry. Really," I reply.

"Don't say it to me. Say it to her. You still have her number, right?" he says. I pat the pocket my phone rests in and nod again. "Good. She's a night owl, she'll still be up. Take a minute if you need it and send her a message before you come back inside, alright?"

He slips back into the house quietly. Madge stubs out her cigarette and tosses it into a clay pot Hazelle has set out for just this purpose. She looks at me with concern etched all over her face.

"How bad? One to ten?" she whispers.

"Eight. Nine, maybe. My mom has a new boyfriend. The last time I saw one of my brothers he'd broken my nose. And the girl I'm crazy about thinks I hate her. Nine," I reply regretfully.

"You're okay. You're going to be okay, I promise, Peeta," she tells me as she wraps her arms around my waist.

_Katniss had wrapped her arms around my waist that day at Wanderer's. I hadn't wanted her to let go._

"What's the bigger mistake?" I ask, pulling out of her embrace and sinking down on the steps behind us. She follows and loops her arm around mine, stealing my pack of cigarettes and tossing it back and forth in her hands without lighting one. "Calling and telling her I'm mad about her and can't wait to see her again, or telling her I'm too fucked up to waste her time on right now?"

"I can't answer that, not really. But, I can tell you that…Gale _saved_ me. When he took me back, he saved me. I was lost and sad and lonely and the idea of staying sober felt like it was draining me of anything and everything that was good in my life. And then he came back, and he _stayed. _It was easier to get out of bed in the mornings, knowing that at some point during the day, I'd see him. So eventually, staying sober wasn't so much of a chore. He showed me how worth it it could be. I…I don't know if I'd be here, if I would have been successful the second time around without his support. And Gale and Katniss…Christ, Peeta, they're pretty much the same damn person, you realize that, right? Their tenacity, their stubbornness, their unbelievable faith and adoration for the people they allow into their lives—that's something that is so intrinsically _them _it's pretty remarkable. If anyone in the world has the capacity to help you the way I know Gale helped me, it's Katniss," she says.

"I don't want to fuck her up, Madge. Everything I've touched has turned to shit lately. How the hell do I live with myself if I do that to her?" I say, rubbing the bridge of my nose to keep my headache from spreading to my sinuses.

She purses her lips for a second and studies my face. "Everything? You sure about that?"

"I've got the deviated septum to prove it," I say, pointing to my nose.

"You also have a job you're doing better in than you have since you started practicing. You've got friends who would go to bat for you without you even asking them to, me and Gale included. You've even got your mother, as flawed as she is and as imperfect as your relationship started out, who I know is pulling for you every step of the way. I mean, think about the wedding—think about what an unmitigated disaster it would have been if you hadn't been there to step in when I needed you to. You were extraordinary—you _are _extraordinary. Do you really not know that?"

I let my head soak up her compliment. She's not entirely wrong.

"You would have gotten, through. You still would have been married to Gale at the end of the day, with or without me as your man of honor," I point out.

"Absolutely. But I look back at my wedding day and you know what I remember? I remember my best friend putting a warm towel on my face and rubbing eucalyptus oil on his hands to remind me to breathe properly. I remember the two men I love and adore the most in the world standing at the end of the aisle as I walked down it, beaming at me from ear to ear, and how it made me feel calmer and safer than I have in a year and a half. And I remember that ridiculous One Direction song you made me dance with you before our send-off and how impishly you grinned at me when you tried to dip me and almost dropped my ass. You're a terrible dancer, Peeta, but you're my best friend in the world. I'd be so lost without you. I'd be lost without Gale. There are some things you just _can't _do alone. And recovery is one of them. If there's a chance in hell that you might be lost without Katniss, you can't just let her go because you're worried you'll fuck it up. It's gonna play out exactly the way it's supposed to, for better or for worse. If it's the latter, I'll be there. I'll get you through it. If it's the former, then I call being your best matron," she says with a smile. I can't help the chuckle that escapes my throat at the thought of Madge in a suit and tie and full up-do.

"What if I end up using again? What then?" I ask somberly.

"You can't think like that. You need to have more faith in yourself, that's all. You need to take it one day at a time, as lame as we both know that particular platitude is. It's still true," she replies. She scoots a little closer to me on the step and puts her head on my shoulder.

_Katniss sat this close to me on this very same step. Even with alcohol seeping out of her pores, she was still the greatest thing about that morning. I didn't want a drink once the rest of that morning after she sat with me out here._

"But for whatever it's worth, Gale's right," she says with finality. "Just apologize for now. It'll go a long way, no matter what you say next."

"I do owe her that," I say with a nod. "I'm not entirely sure she owes me anything in return, though."

"Girls have a tendency to forgive guys they think are handsome when they're man enough to say 'I'm sorry'. It's both a blessing and a curse, believe me."

"…Did she…she said I'm handsome? Really?"

"Well, she wasn't gonna say it to _you, _but…" Madge replies with a grin and a significant wiggle of her eyebrows.

_Holy. Shit._

"I um…I guess I have a phone call to make."

"Do you know what you're going to say?"

"Not really. Figured I'd start with an apology and see what I say next and hope it doesn't fuck everything up, I guess," I say with a shaky laugh.

"One to ten?" she asks again.

"Um…maybe a six or seven," I admit. It feels about right.

"I'll take it," she says with a nod. "Do you want me to stick around while you call, or head inside and give you some privacy?"

"Go on inside. I'm not going anywhere. No booze out here," I say, trying to sound lighthearted.

"I'll peek out the window every so often, but I won't stare. Just wave if you want me to come back out," she says before giving me one more squeeze and retreating into the house.

I sit on the steps and rub my hand over my lips. In this moment I miss my dad so much I can barely breathe. He wasn't perfect, but when I needed an answer to a question, he always had one that made perfect sense. He'd be able to tell me exactly what to do in this situation without batting an eye. I'd deleted his cell phone number out of my phone right after it happened, but it was still the only number I knew by heart. What I wouldn't give to dial the numbers, press send, and hear his voice on the other end.

Instead I scroll through my contacts until I hit the E's. My thumb hovers over her name for several long breaths before finally pressing down on it.

**Calling…Katniss Everdeen **flashes across my screen. I breathe in and out slowly as I press the phone to my ear.

It rings three times. Four. Five. Six. Then a click and a slight pause.

"Hi, you've reached Katniss's cell phone. Can't get to it right now, but leave a message and I'll get back you soon as I can. Oh, and if this is Haymitch…yes, I'm writing, I promise."

A laugh catches in my throat. Then the beep. _It's now or fucking never Mellark. Get it together._

"Katniss, hi…it's Peeta…Mellark. I'm…I'm sorry I didn't call sooner, it's just, um…you know what, I won't even try to bullshit you. I've wanted to call you a hundred times since I saw you at the coffee shop, but I was a pansy. I'm sorry. I really am. I-I'd like to talk to you properly whenever you get a chance. I work tomorrow from 10 to 4 but otherwise I'm free, if you'd want to, you know, call me back. I hope you don't think I don't like you because, um—god, this is so high school, huh?—well, I don't know if there are enough words to accurately describe just how much I like you. But I do. I'm not sure I deserve a second chance, but if you have one to give, I'll take it in a heartbeat. Just call or text or whatever whenever you get a chance. Um…yeah, that's it. Sorry again. But I, um, I hope I hear from you, I really do. Have a good night."

I hang up before I can punch in the code to retrieve the message and delete it and let myself back into the house. Hazelle smiles at me when I reappear in the kitchen and points between two boxed grocery store pies.

"Banana cream or French silk, honey?" she asks.

I try not to pull a face. "Whichever you've already cut into is just fine, really, thanks."

"Peeta's opinion of baked goods is high, Hazelle, it's nothing personal," Madge says sweetly and catches my eye. I smile at her meekly and mouth 'voicemail'. She nods quickly.

"Oh I didn't forget about those cinnamon rolls, believe me. Next time I'll stop treating you like a guest, Peeta, and have you make something dessert-y," Hazelle says with a wink.

"I'd be happy to," I tell her and take the piece of pie she offers me. I take bite and try not to completely betray my disgust of the terribly fake banana flavoring it offers. My dad's banana cream pies were legend.

"Oh thank God, because I'm really sorry, Momma, these are terrible," Gale says and lets his fork drop to his plate with a clatter. Hazelle throws a dish towel at him with a grin.

One piece of fake-banana-flavored pie and a game of Scrabble later and I'm in the car on the way home. The windows are down so I can smoke and enjoy the early spring breeze and the radio is playing rather louder than I should probably have it. I pat my pocket before getting out of the car in front of my building and feel my phone vibrate softly against my palm, reminding me I have a missed text message. I pull it out and read the main display quickly.

**Katniss Everdeen: ****You sound pretty cute when you stammer, you know.**

* * *

**A/N: ****Thanks, as always, to my beta _sohypothetically _for her edits to this chapter and for being such a stand-up gal, and to everyone who's still reviewing, favoriting, and following this story...you all make me feel fabulous. **

******Also, the fabulous, incomparable Ro Nordmann has created a banner for this story, which turned out better than I could have possibly hoped for! It's posted on my Ao3 account; the link can be found in the summary (just remove the superfluous spaces).**

**Finally, come play with me and SH on Tumblr (we both go by our FF pennames) and check out the new Tumblr for _this_ story specifically: alltherightfriendsffDOTtumblrDOTcom. **


	8. I'll Be Bold, as Well as Strong

_So I'll be bold, as well as strong_

_And use my head alongside my heart_

_So tame my flesh and fix my eyes_

_That tethered mind free from the lies_

_But I'll kneel down, wait for now_

_I'll kneel down, know my ground…_

…'_Cause I will wait, I will wait for you_

-Mumford & Sons

* * *

It starts out slow. Very, very slow. She's in the revision stage of her thesis and it's time consuming and exhausting for her. Most days when I get to work I have full books aside from my scheduled break, plus I'm still going to several meetings a week, so it's not like I have a lot of idle time on my hands, either. But we can always count on three text messages a day from one another: one saying good morning, one telling the other something random or silly that we either did or thought midway through the day, and a wish for the other to sleep well at night.

She tells me stories about watching her advisor's house for him one weekend he's away at a conference in Dallas, and how his pet geese literally chased her around the yard while she was carrying their feed bag, nipping at her ankles and leaving bruises. She sends me pictures of both the bruises on her legs as well as the geese staring at her through the plate glass door in the back of the house. I can't help but laugh, even though they really are creepy looking things. I'm not sure what kind of person keeps pet geese, but I guess her advisor is just all-around a strange kind of guy.

I tell her stories about clients from work, prefaced by **Why do people voluntarily work desk jobs? It ruins their damn bodies, even though they have no idea how or why! **She asks for an explanation, so I tell her bits and pieces about the people who come in who want me to rub just their necks and shoulders for an hour, even though I know their lower backs and forearms will be rife with tension and knots. Sure enough, they'll let me get to those areas for all of three minutes, and they'll get tetchy when I tell them we're out of time to continue. The only upside is they're rescheduling for as little as a few days later to get into those areas instead. I tell her I'm fast becoming one of the most requested therapists at the spa. When she tells me, jokingly, that she feels 'like a proud mama', I'm thankful we weren't face-to-face for the blush that spreads across my cheeks.

Nothing in particular drives me to it, but one day, I send a potentially dumb message that maybe could have ruined it for me.

**Would it be strange for me to tell you that I miss you?**

I wished I could take it back the moment it was sent. I dropped my phone in my lap in self-disgust. "Smooth, Mellark," I say aloud to myself. "Way to scare her off."

I get up and raid my pantry for the right ingredients to make cookies to take to work the next day so I have something to do to keep my hands busy. I sneak a couple of glances at my phone and see that no incoming texts have been received. I swear at myself and rub my chips with the hand not mixing the ingredients together. I open the oven door with a loud _slam! _which sends an investigative Sammy skittering across the apartment to cower in the bathroom. I throw the windows open so I can chain smoke my way through my last pack of cigarettes before I have to go buy another carton when the little incoming text tone chimes at me. I wince, preparing myself for the worst.

**No. I was thinking the same thing. So if it is strange, it's at least mutually strange.**

_Huh. That I did not expect._

I make nice with Sammy with a treat and a toy and pull the first batch of cookies out to cool. An idea hits. I punch in the message with conviction.

**I swear I'm not going to stalk you, but…can I have your mailing address?**

**Ha! You couldn't stalk me there if you tried, Mellark, it's a PO Box! ;)**

**Touche. So?**

She sends me the address and I go through my cupboards until I find a Tupperware container big enough to hold almost the entire batch of cookies. I check the time and see I have just enough time to make it to the grocery store next to the post office before the latter closes. I hide the leftover cookies from Sammy and jump in my car. It takes me ten minutes in the store and I'm in line at the post office right before they latch the doors for the night.

**Check your mail tomorrow,**I tell her when I'm back in my car.

**What did you send me? **she replies.

**You'll see tomorrow, sheesh.**

**I'm a very impatient woman. **

**Too bad. You've got 24 hours.**

**Man, you suck. It better be awesome.**

**It's pretty awesome, I'm not gonna lie.**

I'm at work the next day when she receives the care package. Instead of a simple thank you, she sends me pictures: one of her hand pulling one of the prepared cartons of Easy Mac out of her microwave; one of her using the small tube of WhiteOut on a printed page of her thesis, literally marking out every fourth word with a handwritten note in the margin _How is this my life?!_; one of her staging an impromptu puppet show with the little Easter themed toys I'd snagged from the clearance shelf; one of herself, stuffing her face with the cookies I'd made.

It was hard not to notice the barely-there straps of her tank top in the last one, the ever-so-slight curve of her cleavage before the picture cuts off at the bottom. She's literally stuffing three inches of cookies into her mouth all at once. I pride myself on being an extremely professional massage therapist at all times, but something about the way that this picture pings my gut makes me really wish I wasn't at work with two sessions still to go. How someone looks so drop dead gorgeous eating cookies I do not truly understand.

**I'm glad you liked everything. Don't eat all those cookies at once, though, they were designed by dentists to keep their books full**_, _I text her back.

**I'm more worried about my pants not fitting once I eat them all, actually. You are too sweet.**

**Me, or the cookies?**

**Both.**

_Yep. There's that punch in the gut again._

**I can always make less sweet ones next time, if you'd like. Hell, I've even got some recipes for borderline savory cookies I could try out, if you're a willing guinea pig.**

**Ooo, there's gonna be a next time? I'm gonna have to get maternity pants in that case.**

**Would you prefer I make them low cal? With margarine and fake sugar?**

**Would they taste like crap?**

**Probably.**

**Then hell no. Bring on the calories, we'll burn them off later.**

_Whoa. What? 'We'll'? Surely she meant "I'll"…right? __Dear Lord, I cannot keep having this conversation and expect to not be thinking highly unprofessional things in my next session..._

**Eat your cookies, woman. And edit your that paper of yours. Some people have honest work to do.**

I tuck my phone in my pocket and amble to the front to pick up my next client. Thankfully, Stacey always seems to fall straight to sleep as soon as she's on the table, so she won't notice if I'm a little distracted. At least I hope so.

I successfully push Katniss out of my mind for the next two hours and don't check my phone again until I've closed down my room and clocked out. There's another picture message, this time of her apparently passed out over her laptop keyboard with the caption **Sugar crash. Send more cookies at once. Preferably ones that pair well with coffee. **It gives me an even better idea and I steer my car to the grocery store again with a cocky smirk on my face.

An hour later, as I'm mixing espresso powder into the impossibly chocolate-y dough it hits me—I haven't wanted a drink all day. It's a rare day I haven't had a single craving. I think on it as I snap pictures of my hand stirring the dough and scooping it onto a cookie sheet with a melon baller, and now that I'm thinking about it, I'm still good. I pause what I'm doing and text Madge.

**One to ten? One. **I type proudly and send it.

**That's incredible, Peeta! **Madge responds. **It's been a good day, then?**

**It's been a phenomenal day**, I inform her.

I place the cookie sheet in the oven and set the kitchen timer. I don't even want a cigarette right now. This is baffling. Baking and cigarettes go together for me like peas and carrots in a pot pie. Instead I focus my efforts on getting decent shots of the cookies spreading and rising through the glass in the oven door. They look so good even _I_ want to drool a little. When they're ready, I take a few more pictures of them cooling, then turn the camera angle around so I'm looking at myself. It feels silly, but I bring one to my lips and snap a shot of me biting down around it. The chocolate spreads across my tongue and the bitter espresso makes my cheeks pucker a little bit. They're perfect.

I attach all the pictures to a message and put the cookies in another Tupperware to take to the post office first thing in the morning and stash the rest in the microwave to keep away from Sammy. She flicks her tail from the top of the refrigerator and yowls at me, I assume for thwarting her attempts at food thievery. I stretch out across my bed while I wait for her message in response. Sammy's decides to forgive me and curls up next to my hip a minute or two later; I'm almost asleep by the time my phone jangles again.

**Food porn. Oh jeez…now do I have to send you naked pictures of me to make us even?**

Instead of a clenching in my stomach, a very different sensation below the waist triggers when I read this. Thank _God _she's not here right now to see how I'm reacting.

**I'm a gentleman, Katniss. I'd never demand naked pictures**, I reply, even though I feel about as 'gentlemanly' as a porn star right now. The blankets over my stomach are tented decidedly and I feel myself begin to ache with need.

**But it's not like you'd delete them if I sent them, right? I mean…you are a guy after all.**

_Uh, yeah. I'm most definitely a guy right now._ Sammy decides she's hungry and hops down from her spot curled next to me, which I'm suddenly very okay with.

**Don't you think it's a bit early for naked pictures?**

**Ugh, I suppose. Ruin my fun why don't you.**

I can feel the blood pumping towards my groin. I swear I feel like I'm getting stupider. I probably am.

**While I'm not always old fashioned, I do generally like taking a girl on a proper date or two before I see her naked.**

**So…you're going to take me out on a proper date one day? **

**I'd very much like to, yes.**

**I'll allow it. What's your favorite color?**

**Sunset orange. And yours is dark green.**

**Same as your chip. The three month one, right?**

**Yes. But that's coincidence, I'm sure. Plans for the rest of the night?**

**Hot date with my computer and a cup of coffee, as always. At least my roommate is out for the evening so I don't have to wear pants.**

_Interesting_, I want to tell her, _because with that sentence _my_ pants just got a bit more snug._

**You have no idea the effect you have on me when you say things like that, do you?**

…**Well now I do. That's handy knowledge to have, sir. ;)**

**You're enjoying teasing me, aren't you?**

**You have no idea. I'm going to go slave over the next round of revisions. I'll text you in the morning. Sweet dreams, Peeta.**

**You too, Katniss.**

I snap out the light on the side table and try to ignore my erection as it throbs painfully against my stomach. I wriggle around on my stomach, which just makes it hurt even more. It's then I remember the last time I got laid was _months_ ago. And that probably doesn't even count as proper sex, all things considered.

A small voice tells me I shouldn't. That it's not appropriate to fantasize about Katniss wandering around her apartment in her underwear, because we aren't _really_ dating yet. I've only been, you know, in love with her half my life.

Shit. My penis is going to stage a protest and walk off my body soon, this hurts so much.

I wiggle my pants off of my hips and fumble around a little alcove of my side table for where I keep a bottle of lube and a ratty tea towel. It's probably a little too well hidden considering I never really have house guests, but old habits die hard. My erection throbs again as soon as my fingers close around the tiny bottle and an involuntary moan escapes my lips. I pop the cap, pour a little bit of the cool, viscous liquid into my palm, and grab myself a little harder than I probably would have if it hadn't been so long since the last time I got off. I groan from the back of my throat as my fist starts to pump over the straining flesh. I sort of register myself twitch and know this won't take long…particularly not with the images flashing behind my clenched shut eyes.

Tanned skin stretched over taut calf and thigh muscles as the dark blue fabric of her bridesmaid dress rides up when she settles her feet against my coffee table. The same skirt twirling when she spins on the dance floor to the cheesy pop songs the DJ played during the wedding reception. Her sinewy arms wrapping around my neck during the first dance of the evening. The intoxicating smell of mint and rosemary that seemed to exude from her hair in waves as it brushes against my cheek. The slight pressure of her perfect, cupid's bow lips as they press against my cheek when she thanks me for helping her with her speech.

Oh _God_.

What I wouldn't give for this to be her hand running along my cock. What I wouldn't give to press my hand under her panties and bury my fingers between her folds and find her warm and wet with anticipation. What I wouldn't give to moan out my release against those lips and hear her cry out when I finish her off, too. What I wouldn't give to hold her against my chest and play with her hair until we're recovered enough to try again (and again and again…). Taste the salt on her skin. Kiss her until our lips are chapped and raw. Make her come as hard as I'm about to.

"Fuck, _Katniss…_" I cry out as my hand works me over and over until my balls tighten and my hips jerk upwards. I pant heavily as my heart pounds in my ears and I catch my breath. I use the towel to clean off my stomach and hand and wedge it and the lube back in its hiding spot to launder later before shimmying my pajamas back over my hips. Sammy jumps back up and nestles herself against my leg and purrs happily as she falls asleep. Sated from my first orgasm in months, I'm only a few minutes behind her.

* * *

My phone vibrates on the table near my head as the klaxon that is my alarm tone goes off. As usual, it startles Sammy into skittering across the room and yowling. I'm generally wide awake before this alarm, but I'd slept like the dead last night. I switch it off and pad to the bathroom, the skin of my right hand and chest and stomach still slightly sticky. I stand under the hot spray in my shower for several minutes, replaying the entire text conversation over and over in my head. A part of me feels guilty for using Katniss as masturbation fodder, but a decidedly more carnal part wants to do it again. And again. If only she knew how long I've cared about her, how amazed I am that she's in my life again after all these years and in such a way that's so quickly approaching intimacy, maybe she'd be a bit more demure and reserved. Or maybe things would be that much more intense. I'm not sure.

I know that I don't _want_ things to move any slower than they already are. This pace is good. This pace is probably what I need to get through to six months sober, then nine, then the rest of my life. And for all I know, she'll get that job with the EPA and that'll be it. At least at this pace it'd be possible for me to ween myself off of her so it doesn't completely destroy me if she ends up really being too far out of my reach. Yes, this pace is manageable.

I scrub down quickly, denying myself another round of self-gratification in favor of leaving the apartment early to give myself plenty of time to stop by the post office and mail off her cookies. I pop a couple of pieces of bread in the toaster for a quick breakfast and snag my phone to check in with Madge while the electric coils do their job. The lock screen is full of tiny images, and all of them are marked with Katniss's name. I quirk my eyebrows and open the top image, then nearly choke on the deep breath I inhale.

**My roommate force-marched me to Target this morning because their swim wear is all on sale. What do you think?**

She's attached not one, but five images she's taken in the dressing room mirror of her in various bathing suits. There's a navy one piece that looks like something Marilyn Monroe would sport. A black and white one with only one shoulder strap. A multicolored one that's cinched in at the stomach so her obliques are on full display. A mix-and-matched two piece with a long green top and grey bottoms that just barely shows off her navel. And the last one, which I'm sure was entirely intentional to make me as crazy as possible: an orange fringed top piece that barely covers her breasts matched with simple white bottoms that tie in little bows at the side. One good yank at either side and she'd be completely bare.

I'm glad I haven't put on my work uniform yet. I know instantly that the towel around my waist won't be on much longer, and I'll probably end up in the shower again before I leave the house.

**Admit it…you're trying to kill me, aren't you?**

Her next message comes almost instantly, as if she'd punched it in and not sent it until she heard back from me.

**Figured I could wish you a good morning…or just make for damn sure you have one. ;)**

Then another.

**Oh? Is it working?**

_Uh, yeah, _I want to tell her. I settle instead on **More than you could possibly know. Imp.**

**You said it was too early for naked pictures…you didn't say anything about bathing suits or lingerie.**

My eyes bug out of my head.

**Thank you. That officially sealed my coffin. I'm dead now.**

**Darn. I'm not into necrophilia.**

**How about zombies?**

**Are you saying you'd rise again for me? That's morbidly sweet.**

_Well _something _is certainly rising._

**If you keep this up, I'll never have time to stop by the post office before work to mail you your cookies, you know.**

**Mmm…pity. Have a nice day. ;)**

I try, I honestly do, to put my clothes on and finish getting ready for the day. My body completely betrays me, though, and I practically step on Sammy in my haste to get back in the shower before I come without even so much as touching myself.

* * *

**A/N: I promised y'all an M rating, did I not? Hope it didn't disappoint. There's a lot more of this sort of fluffy sweetness (and naughtiness) in the chapters to come, and as always, I'm committed to giving our beloved Everlark the wonderful love story they deserve.**

**As always, a huge thank to you beta-extraordinare _sohypothetically_, as well as you wonderful reviewers and followers! I'm still so blown away by the response this story is getting, and am eternally grateful that you're all loving Recovery!Peeta as much as I do.**

**I post snippets of upcoming chapters and videos for the songs that inspire the titles of these chapters on my dedicated fic-Tumblr:**

**alltherightfriendsff dot tumblr dot com**

**And I geek out in general at:**

**baronesskika dot tumblr dot com**

_**sohypothetically**_**hangs**** out on tumblr, too, so come join us! There will be another DOUBLE update on Saturday, so stay tuned!**


	9. Standing On Your Porch Screaming Out

_It's better to feel pain than nothing at all_

_The opposite of love's indifference_

_So pay attention now, I'm standing on your porch screaming out_

_And I won't leave until you come downstairs_

_So keep your head up, keep your love_

_Keep your head up, my love _

-The Lumineers

* * *

I hold the door for Annie as we leave the couples room at the end of our session to let our clients get dressed. When we're almost through the door of the break room, she pulls a face and mimics the client she's just worked on.

"'Oh, honey dear, couldn't you go an extra few minutes on my feet? They're so sore, and my wife never rubs 'em good enough!'" she sneers. "Dude, she's laying right. _There_. Don't be a dick."

"I know you can't stand him, but she's nice enough…plus they're good tippers," I tell her and pump soap into my palm as she starts the water in the sink.

"Yeah, well, there's a nice one and an asshole in every relationship. I swear to God if he requests me again, I'm going to Effie and telling her all the shit he says in session," she says and lathers her arms up to her elbows. I shake my head and try not to laugh at her.

"Whoa, whoa…are you the nice one, or the asshole?" Finnick says as he appears as if from no where behind us. He hip checks me out of his way and pouts deliberately at Annie, who rolls her eyes.

"Oh, shut up, Finn. You know what I mean," she says.

"I'm hurt, Ann, really," he says, feigning genuine offense. I butt my way back to the sink so I can rinse off my hands and grab a water for each of our clients.

"Don't know what your hurry is, Peet, you know they take forever to get off the tables," Annie says to me as she dries her hands.

"Right, right," I say and pull my phone from my back pocket. My eyebrows rise in surprise. I've missed three calls from Katniss. Since the finished draft of her thesis had come due this past Wednesday, I haven't heard from her much. She's prepping like a madwoman for her defense presentation as well as the interview with the EPA. I've missed her texts, but it's strange to see her name come up as a missed call. It's just been texts all this time.

"You getting porn on that thing again, Mellark? Haven't I told you? Share the good ones with me!" Finnick says jokingly. Annie slaps his arm.

"You looking through his pictures was a really shitty thing to do, Finnick," Annie says with a sigh. Finnick is shameless—he'd grilled me for hours about the girl in the bikinis after he'd spied the shots of Katniss I'd saved, then acted hurt that I hadn't told he and Annie about her sooner. That had been intentional; there didn't seem to be much point in going into details about my…whatever it is between us…until it's a bit more official.

If it ever becomes official, of course.

"You better watch out, Finn…your girl is hardly in the mood for you to be joking about looking at another girl's boobs, if I'm not mistaken," I tell him. Annie gives him a significant look and takes the bottle of water I hand her. This couples session is my last for this particular Saturday, so as soon as we flip the room I'm off duty. The pair of them asked me to go to dinner with them, but I'm tired from the last three days of work and am looking forward to a quiet night at home. As a treat to myself for getting my 3 month chip I'd splurged on some art supplies, and my brand new charcoals are calling my name.

"Seriously. Don't make me second guess breaking Effie's coworker-fraternization rule, Finnick," she says seriously. I know she's just tetchy from the session, so I throw Finnick a reassuring wink as we head back to the couples room to meet our clients.

By the time I'm punched out and in my car, I've received two new texts from Katniss, and it's starting to get a little worrying.

**I know you work Saturdays, but you don't close, right?**

**You'll be off work soon, right? Call me when you're off…I need someone to be nice to me for a minute.**

I pull her number up in my contacts and press the phone to my ear as I steer out of the parking lot. She answers almost immediately. It feels like forever since the last time I heard her voice, despite the wedding only being 2 months ago.

"Hey," she says. She sounds funny. Nothing like the girl I met for coffee all those weeks ago.

"Are you okay? Sorry, I'm just heading home now," I tell her. I hear her sniffle on the other end. _Holy shit…is she crying?_

"God, this has been the week from hell, Peeta. Say something nice or funny, will you?" she says quickly. Only naturally, my mind goes blank.

"Um…my friend Annie at work had a client today she loathingly refers to as Sasquatch's Baby Brother?" I say after a moment. I get a lighthearted laugh in return.

"Ew. You really work on people like that sometimes?" she says, her tone a little more relaxed.

"Sometimes. You get used to it after a while, honestly," I tell her. "What's wrong? Anything I can help with?"

"Maybe…when will you be home?" she replies.

"Twenty minutes, maybe. I was going to stop for Chinese food on my way. Why?"

"…Can you get enough for two?" she says quietly.

"Are you…where are you right now?" I stammer.

"Maybe an hour outside of town. Haymitch and I went to lunch today to prep for my interview and…I just needed to get as far away from school as possible afterwards. I got in my car and started driving. That's why I called you…I was hoping I might crash on your floor tonight," she tells me. I gape at myself in my rearview mirror.

"Gale and Madge have an extra bedroom in their place. Or even Hazelle…" I tell her gently, not wanting her to think I'm trying to wimp out of seeing her. There's nothing more in the world that I want than to have her in my presence again, but this seems too good to be true.

"I wasn't going to tell them I came into town. I can't stay long…I need to be back first thing Monday morning, and if I call Gale he'll want to go out and make me drink away my troubles—sorry—and Hazelle works night shifts on the weekends. But, I mean, I can go back if you can't, I understand…it was kind of presumptuous of me…"

"No!" I yelp. _Jesus, Mellark…don't scare her off!_ "No, don't do that. I was just, you know, surprised you wouldn't want to stay with one of them, that's all."

"I don't want to put you out, Peeta, really…"

"You're not, Katniss. I'm…I'm excited that I'll get to see you…" I tell her. She's silent on the other end, but I swear I can envision the smile that might be creeping across her lips. "You're not a vegetarian, right?"

"Hell no. I've never met a Chinese dish I haven't liked. The spicier the better," she says.

"You're my kind of gal, Miss Everdeen," I tell her with a smirk.

"Glad great minds think alike, Mr. Mellark," she replies.

"You remember where I live?"

"I think so."

"Call if you get lost. Otherwise…"

"I'll see you soon," she finishes. I feel my heart thump wildly in my chest.

"See you soon."

* * *

I keep a decently clean house, but I'm glad Katniss has another half hour of her drive so that I have some time to straighten up when I get home. I set the bag of Chinese food on the counter and toss food in Sammy's dish so she doesn't get too investigative in the meantime. I leave the groceries I've purchased on the counter so the cream cheese can start to soften and shuffle into my bathroom to change out of my work clothes, pick up my dirty laundry, and scoop out Sammy's litter box. I'd actually made up the converter bed that morning, but there are a few empty glasses and some junk mail on the coffee table. I quickly take them into the kitchen before I put the next phase of my plan into action.

I've set up my living room as I want it and am mixing together the filling for a cheesecake when the tap comes at my door. My heart leaps into my throat and I will it to stop pounding before I pull the door open. Even if it had, it would have just started all over again when I see her ever-so-briefly before she leaps into my arms.

I almost stumble backwards in surprise, but I recover and lock my arms around her. The intoxicating smell of her shampoo permeates my nostrils and sets my head swimming. Her t-shirt is soft under my palms. She nestles against my chest in a way that feels so right that I can barely believe it. I move us away from the doorway just enough to push it closed, but make no attempt at breaking our hold on each other; after how I screwed up the last time I saw her, I'm letting her be the one to break contact this time.

Eventually she does and smiles up at me meekly. "Hi," she says quietly.

I brush a strand of hair that's worked loose from her braid back with my fingertips. "Good to see you. You hungry?"

"Famished," she says and leads herself into the tiny kitchen. Sammy circles around her feet and meows expectantly. She reaches down to stroke her spine and I point towards the barstools at the far end of the hightop counter.

"Sit down, I'll make you a plate. Something to drink?" I ask her and open up the Chinese food bag and grab plates from my pantry.

"Beer if you—shit, sorry," she says and flushes a little. It's probably a natural response for her. I shrug it off like I didn't even really hear it and peek in my fridge.

"I've got water, grape juice, and regular or chocolate milk," I tell her.

"Grape juice and chocolate milk, huh? Are we in elementary school here?"

"Um, grape juice is _awesome, _thank you very much," I scoff at her playfully. She grins.

"Fine, I'll take your _awesome _grape juice and a scoop from every one of those cartons," she tells me, pointing at the Chinese food bag.

"Dumplings or egg rolls?" I ask.

"Yes," she replies. _Damn she's adorable, _I think.

I scoop out equal portions of the three different entrees I'd bought along with steamed and fried rice and nuke it for a minute in the microwave. It gives me a chance to press the graham cracker crumbs into the bottom of my spring form pan. I can feel her looking at me funny as I work, but don't turn to her again until the microwave beeps. I hand her a fork as well as the paper wrapped chopsticks along with her plate. She stares at me as if I've sprouted an extra head.

"Is this…are you baking for me again?" she asks.

"Does this surprise you?"

She shakes her head as she breaks her chopsticks apart. "What is that? A cheesecake?"

"It will be once it's baked. It doesn't really go with Chinese, I know, but I thought you might be sick of cookies," I tell her.

"Impossible. So, you bought dinner, are making a cheesecake, and…holy shit, is that your massage table?" she says, peeking out into the living area.

"Nosey. That was supposed to be an after-dinner-before-dessert surprise," I tell her in mock exasperation.

"You're gonna give me a massage? I thought you had some rule about it…" she says.

Sure enough, I'd mentioned in passing that I have a pretty firm rule against working on friends and family (this had been a vast disappointment to Madge over the last few months). Something about the sound of her voice on the phone had broken my resolve, however, so I decided to make an exception.

"Don't get used to it or anything. And it might not be any good, since I did just get off work. But you sounded like you could use a little zen and since I can't get you drunk, I figured a massage might be the next best thing," I tell her honestly. She smirks at me.

"There are other ways to get to see me naked, you know," she says and waggles her eyebrows. I throw a dish towel at her playfully.

"You'll be fully draped, just like any other client. I'll even step into the bathroom while you're getting on the table so you have your privacy."

"Just to be clear…this is our first real date, right?"

I feel my cheeks color a little bit, but nod anyway.

"Very impressive curve to set for yourself, sir, considering this'll be the only time I'm ever supposed to expect a massage from you," she tells me, popping a piece of General Tso's Chicken into her mouth.

"Well, had you given me more time, I would have cooked dinner myself instead of getting us takeout. But I figured the cheesecake would make up for it since you have such a sweet tooth," I shrug. She shakes her head. Her spirits seem noticeably lifted and her smile is genuine. She pops a bit more food in her mouth as I place the assembled cheesecake into the oven and join her at the hightop with my own plate of food. I raise my glass of grape juice towards her, feeling just the tiniest bit sheepish in this moment. "To our first real date?"

"Cheers to that," she says and taps her cup against mine. Then, without warning, she surges her face towards mine and kisses me flush on the mouth.

And it's_ perfect._ Her lips are soft and warm against mine. Her breath from her nostrils tickles my soft palate. In this moment I feel _everything._ When it's over a second later, my lips actually miss hers.

"Sorry," she breathes out slowly. "I guess that kind of kills your whole 'professionalism' thing, huh?"

"Just a little bit. Would it be too forward to tell you that was amazing?" I whisper as I look into her eyes. Her cheeks flush ever so slightly.

"Well, jeez Mellark, if I didn't do it, you might never have," she says, pushing my shoulder gently. If her face colors a little bit, mine burns hot in response. She smoothes a bit of hair off my forehead and nudges me again. "Kidding. I think it's sweet you're so gentlemanly."

"I'm glad you do. I'm…I'm just not entirely sure how to act around you sometimes. I have a little trouble believing you're actually here," I admit quietly, staring at my plate of food.

"I am, though. And feel free to act however you'd like," she responds. Her hand rests lightly on the top of my thigh and my skin feels like it's on fire under my sweatpants. I'm about to lean over and capture her lips with my own again when I hear a thud from the other room, immediately followed by a yowl and Sammy darting like a flash into my bathroom. Katniss snickers and I roll my eyes.

"Damn cat," I say.

"Who'd she belong again?" she asks, stabbing a bit of chicken with the end of her chopsticks. The moment is gone and we both know it. She seems as disappointed as I am, which has my heart beating fast.

"My dad. He found her behind his garage one day when she was a kitten. Tiny, mangy little thing…we all told him to just take her to a vet and have her put out of her misery. She'd been kicked out of her litter, I guess, and hadn't eaten much more than grass based on what she threw up everywhere. But Dad didn't have the heart to. Fed her warm rice milk out of an eyedropper for days until she was strong enough to take in proper calories, and then fattened her up with tuna fish the rest of the way. She was enamored by him. Hasn't really taken to me much, though," I tell her. Talking about my dad sends a jolt through my heart of a decidedly different nature. I miss him all over again thinking about him holding the palm-sized kitten in one hand and that eyedropper in the other. I have to stop thinking about it before I do something stupid like cry.

"That's really sweet. Animals have a hard time adjusting sometimes, I think. She's probably just still getting used to you, that's all," she says thoughtfully.

"Maybe. She seems to like my pillows just fine, though. I'm pretty sure you're not allergic, but she sheds like nobody's business…I've got allergy pills if you need 'em."

"I'll be fine."

We're quiet for a little while as we eat. Eventually her hand finds my leg again and I close my fingers around hers without another thought. I swear I see her lips pick up a little at the sides out of the corner of my eye.

"So…can I ask what about your week prompted you to drive two hours home for just one night?"

She swallows hard and takes a sip of her juice. "The EPA canceled my interview. I was supposed to be on the first train to D.C. on Wednesday morning, but Haymitch's contact called him yesterday and said they'd canceled all third pool interviews and beyond. I was supposed to be the first person in the fourth pool. Hired someone practically on the spot during one of the first two pools, I guess."

"Oh, Katniss…I'm so sorry…"

She shrugs. "I knew I had practically no chance of getting it, but I had practically begged Haymitch to pull the strings he did. I just wanted a shot, you know? A tiny, diminutive chance of making the world a little bit better and I figured working for them would be the best way to do it."

"There's plenty of environmental organizations out there. Probably a bunch that will be even less bogged down in political bureaucracy than the EPA undoubtedly is," I say, trying to be helpful. She nods.

"I guess. Still sucks, though," she says.

"Of course it does. Getting screwed over by the government usually does. At least you know you aren't the only one," I say, trying to make a joke. It falls a little flat, but I think she appreciates the sentiment. "On the bright side…now that I know why you were so upset on the phone, I'll probably give you an even better massage than I was planning on. I'm pretty damn good at my job, I'm not gonna lie."

"I don't have anything to compare it to, honestly. I've never gotten a massage before," she tells me.

"Really? A virgin, huh? That's always fun," I tease.

"What happened to 'professionalism'?" she says and elbows me in the side.

"Oh, come on, it's no fun if you can't joke about it a little bit. I'll admit, I've probably been hanging out with my friend Finnick too much outside of work—he's like the least professional therapist I've ever met. Doesn't cross any lines, of course, but he's always been sort of a Casanova type, if you know what I mean. He's gotten a little better since he started dating my friend Annie, though. She balances him out a bit," I tell her.

"So tell me what to expect," she says. I look over her posture quickly and make a few mental notes to myself.

"What hurts? Anything?" I ask.

She shakes her head. "Nothing in particular. I've been getting headaches, but that's mostly from staring at my computer monitor for hours on end. I've been meaning to go to the eye doctor to make sure I haven't irreparably screwed up my vision."

"Press your hands together like this," I ask, pressing the tops of both of my hands flush against each other so my wrists are bent down at 90 degree angles. She imitates me in minor confusion. "Any tingling or numbness in your fingers?"

"Nope. The stretch feels good on my wrists, though," she says. I nod as I finish my mental note taking. I notice her plate is nearly empty and nod towards the half open containers on the counter.

"More? I bought enough to last me a few shifts in leftovers, but by all means, eat it while it's still kind of hot," I tell her. She shakes her head.

"Nah, but it's Chinese food…I'll be hungry again in an hour," she tells me.

"Good…that'll be about the time the cheesecake is ready," I say with a wink, and get up and check on its progress in the oven. The middle is set, so I kill the heat to let it finish in the closed oven and put our plates in the dishwasher. She moves near me almost silently to close the food containers and put them in the fridge. I study her slight form for a minute and breathe deeply.

_Surely there's another minute to be unprofessional before I get her on the table_.

I wait until she turns around and wrap my arms around her again. She looks as though she was expecting it all along and melts against me as I bend my neck down to kiss her again. Her lips are slightly spicy now from the chilies in the food, but they still taste sweet and intrinsically _her. _God help me if now that I've kissed her I'm ever able to stop myself.

We come up for air a few minutes later. She blows a bit of her hair out of her eyes with a puff of her lips, and pulls away from me slightly. "Time to be professional, Mellark. Where do you want me?"

"Need the restroom before you lay down?"

"Sure," she replies.

"Right over there," I say, jerking my thumb towards the bathroom. When she reemerges a minute or two later, I put my hand on her lower back to lead her into the living area. I pull down the edge of the linens and pat the tabletop. "Dress down as you're comfortable..."

"Is that fancy massage therapist talk for 'get naked'?" she asks so impishly I can't help but chuckle in response.

"Basically. Like I said, you'll be fully draped except for whatever I'm working on at a time. Feet ticklish or anything like that?"

"My sides are a little bit," she says with a shrug and toes her shoes off to kick under the table.

"I'll be careful around there, then. Jump on and lay face up so you're looking at the ceiling. I'm just gonna wash my hands in the bathroom and give you a minute, okay?" I tell her. She nods and I close the door behind me as I step inside. For good measure I splash a bit of cool water on my face to center myself before I scrub my hands quickly. Sammy's eyes stare at me from her resting spot on the back of the toilet and she flicks her tail. "Behave yourself, cat," I tell her before I crack the bathroom door open and call out to Katniss.

"Ready," she singsongs. "Aren't you supposed to have Enya playing in the background or something?"

"Ugh, I get enough of that crap at the spa. I personally think I work better to things that aren't instrumental. Pink Floyd or Frank Sinatra?" I ask, plugging my phone into a speaker dock and scrolling through my music.

"Um…Floyd, I guess," she says with a shrug.

"Good. _Dark Side of the Moon _it is," I tell her as I press play. I place my hands lightly on the tops of her feet through the blankets and take a deep breath. "Lemme know if I'm going too light or too deep anywhere, okay?"

She nods and I see her close her eyes. I move around to the top of the table and perch on the edge of my coffee table so I'm sitting at her head and neck. I take another second to ground myself before I place my hands lightly underneath the base of her neck.

"Would you mind taking out your braid?" I ask and remove my hands. "Better for the scalp massage if your hair is loose. I don't have any lotion on my hands yet, it won't get greasy."

She yanks out the elastic binder from the end of her hair and slides it around her wrist before weaving her fingers through the strands and letting it flow loosely around her shoulders. I grab a light hold on the base of her skull again before weaving my own fingers through the strands and press my fingertips against her scalp. I make tiny circles with the pads, and a breath hitches in her throat.

"Is that supposed to feel that good?" she murmurs and I feel her head loll into my hands. _Good—if she relaxes this easy, the rest of the session will be cake._

"I have clients who literally have me just do their neck and up for the whole hour or whatever they're in to see me. It's pretty much the best part ever, yes," I tell her with a gentle smile. She nods lightly and folds her arms over her stomach outside of the blanket. I continue my work along the sutures of her skull before I rub her temples with my thumbs. She moans quietly, but not in the way you'd expect unless you're a massage therapist.

"Feel alright?" I ask.

"Amazing, actually. That's just where all my headaches are. Are you positive I can't convince you to do this more than once? This is already the best thing ever," she says. Her eyes are closed and her jaw is slightly slack. It's a look I'm used to seeing on client's faces, but I know I'm going to have to keep my eyes off her if I'm going to make it through this without doing something wildly inappropriate, like kiss her again. Instead I close my own eyes as well as I continue down to her neck. Her muscles are surprisingly supple for someone as stressed as she has been lately, so I knead her shoulders gently.

"Ugh…" she breathes after another minute or two.

"Good 'ugh' or bad 'ugh'?"

"Good. Very good."

"Right. Let me know if anything hurts, alright?" I say and close my eyes again. With my eyes closed, it's easier to pretend she's just any other client, not the girl I'm in love with that I just kissed for the first and second times only a few minutes ago. By the time I move to her arms and hands, her breathing is shallow and even and I'm fairly certain she'll be fast asleep by the time we're done. I stretch her wrists and eventually her ankles when I get down to her legs. Eventually I move back up to the head of the table and shake her shoulder lightly.

"Katniss? Wanna turn over on your belly now so I can get to your back?" I ask her. She startles a little but nods and flips over deftly under the covers. She arranges her hair so it falls in cascades around the horseshoe-shaped face-rest and I see her sigh.

"Doing okay still?" I ask her with a smile.

"I'm going to cry when this is over," she says, her voice slightly muffled. "Hope that won't make you uncomfortable."

"I'll take my time on your back, don't you worry," I say, resting my hands lightly at the top and bottom of her spine before rubbing them briskly to warm up the tissue. I see her nod in a similar way some of my clients at work do when they're trying to silently tell me I'm doing a good job and smile to myself again. I've barely traced the groove on either side of her spine with the pads of my thumbs when I hear her snore softly. I can't help but smirk at myself—I could probably re-drape her back at this point and just let her sleep and tell her I finished the session if she asks. But I want her to wake up feeling better than when she fell asleep. Her muscles are easy to work on and get even softer under my hands. The Floyd album ends and the Postal Service comes on next, which is equally easy to get lost in as I work. Before I even realize it, I've kneaded her back into soft mush and have moved onto the back of her legs. When each calf muscle feels equally supple, I run my hands along her draped legs and feet as if to wipe the stale energy off of them. With a client at the spa it'd be time to shake her gently to wake her back up, but I have a hard time convincing myself to do that to her in this moment. She seems so peaceful and I know it's been a hard week on her. I decide to let her lay there as long as she wants to; I move to the kitchen to take the cheesecake out of the oven to cool on the counter and wash my hands quickly before sneaking out my front door for a cigarette.

There's a light drizzle falling and I rub my forearms briskly while holding the cigarette in my mouth. It's the kind of evening I used to spend curled up with a few gin and tonics and a sketch pad before I got too shit-faced to draw a straight line. I hold the hand I have my cigarette held in up to my eye level and study it for a minute. Despite the chilly breeze, it's steady as I hold it aloft. Usually when a craving hits, my hands shake like autumn leaves about to fall with a good gust of wind, but not tonight. It helps that I'm not really craving a drink, just acknowledging that this is the type of weather I'd enjoy one in. I stub my cigarette out after a few more puffs and let myself back inside quietly so I don't disturb Katniss. I rinse off my hands again and grab a glass of water before turning to see her redressed and perched on the massage table petting Sammy's head. She smiles at me sweetly.

"Sammy has kind of terrible breath when she meows in your face," she tells me by way of explanation.

"Yeah, I need to change her food I think. How do you feel?" I ask her. I hand her my glass as if I'd gotten it for her and she sips it gratefully. An even wider smile creeps across her lips.

"Heavenly. You're right; you are unbelievably good at your job," she tells me. I bow my head in appreciation and settle onto the couch.

"I'm glad you enjoyed it. You got a good nap in there, I could tell," I tell her.

"Actually, I was totally conscious of everything you were doing. It was like…I don't know, some sort of dream state. I felt like I was sleeping, but I could feel everything. I never realized how much I like having my feet touched until now," she says. I nod.

"You feel better overall, though, right? Less stressed?"

"Much. Thanks," she says, jumping off the table and moving to sit next to me on the couch. "So…how long does the therapist-client professionalism have to extend after the massage is over?" Her voice is low and throaty. I cross my legs, just in case.

"Until you're off the table and not my client anymore," I tell her, getting momentarily lost in her eyes.

"I'm off the table. I'm not your client anymore. I'm just your…Katniss," she says.

"_My _Katniss? Does that make me _your _Peeta?" I ask as I place my hand on the side of her face. She leans into it and my heart pounds in my ears.

"I hope so," she says.

"Me too," I tell her as I lean our faces together and capture her lips again.


	10. The Queen of Everything

_Picture, you're the queen of everything_

_As far as the eye can see under your command_

_I will be your guardian_

_When all is crumbling_

_To steady your hand_

_You can never say never_

_While we don't know when…_

…_Don't let me go…_

-The Fray

* * *

Somewhere between dizzying, feverish kisses and gorging ourselves on almost the entire cheesecake I'd made, Katniss and I come to a silent agreement that sex is not in the cards tonight. My body might be the tiniest bit disappointed, but my head knows it's the right call. After all, the last time I'd thought solely with my dick, I'd ended up in the ER. I know that sleeping with Katniss won't have a similar outcome, but the recollection of Hazelle Hawthorne changing out my IVs and helping hold me down while the ENT resident probed my broken nose with an irrigation hose snapped me out of my disappointment quickly.

Besides, less time for sex means more time for talking—and I really, really like talking to Katniss. I'd spent entire days in high school wondering what made her tick, why she never smiled, where she disappeared to during lunch. Never in a million years would I have guessed that we're not so dissimilar, she and I—we've each had a parent die and a parent severely disappoint us. We've each gone through ups and downs with our siblings and are both currently on the downs. These days, we each consider the Hawthorne clan to be our real family. Since she's known Gale for so much longer, it makes me sense for her than it does for me. But I don't admit that, largely because I _like _being an honorary member of their family.

Eventually, the question comes up that I've been dreading. It's been such a good night.

"So…what made you stop drinking?" Katniss asks after I've broken down my massage table and converted the sofa back into my bed. I'm glad I have so many pillows stashed away, because it makes the little fort-like creation we've assembled that much more comfortable and private. Not that we really lacked privacy to begin with, of course.

"Nothing _made _me stop drinking. I decided that all on my own," I tell her, running her hair through my fingertips. It's the truth, of course. Doesn't stop the urge to poor myself the biggest gin and tonic the planet has ever seen and gulp it down all at once right this very second.

"Okay, what made you _decide _to stop drinking, then?"

"Why…why do you want to know?"

"Why do you not want to answer?"

I sigh heavily. "Because there's a good chance you'll absolutely hate my guts when I tell you."

"Try me." She's defiant. God, that's intoxicating. Almost as much as that gin and tonic I picture in my head.

"I mean it, Katniss. That guy? Alcoholic Peeta? He was—_I _was—a real prick. I'm sure if you had met me six months ago, you would have never given me the time of day. I wouldn't have wanted you to, because that would have meant settling for a real loser," I tell her, rubbing the bridge of my nose with my fingers. She snatches my hand away and laces my fingers in between her own.

"That part I get. I've known Gale for years, remember? I met Madge right when they started dating the first go-around. I got the first-hand experience of Alcoholic Madge, and she was pretty lousy. But I also know and adore Sober Madge and I know they are very different people. I'm not gonna judge you for what you did when you were fucked up. But…I don't like dishonesty. If I'm asking you something, it's because I want to know the truth. Alright?"

She's staring me down, willing me to try to change the subject again. That must be a practiced look, because it's too good—it wears me down immediately.

"Alright. As I understand it, there are a few different types of 'drunk'," I tell her after a short pause. "They mingle together well and an alcoholic isn't always necessarily one or another. But let's put it this way: there's…well, there's the sort of drunk who hides the truth. Who's really, really good at pretending that there's no problem, that blowing through three handles of booze a week isn't all that bad, that their weekly bar tab working out to more than their rent is not a signal. These are usually the type who drive themselves home at the end of a night completely obliterated, because in their heads they aren't really drunk at all, or the sort to drink at work, because that's just how they get through their day…"

"So…you mean Madge," Katniss says. Clearly, my sponsor doesn't just share the realities of her story with our AA group.

"I wasn't going to say it, but, yeah," I reply.

"Right. Go on," she tells me.

"Then, there's the obvious, clichéd 'violent drunk'. The kind that'll pick fights in bars with people who might look at them funny, or goes home at the end of a bender and beat the shit out of their kids or their spouse," I say. My mind centers solely on my mother, but again, I'm not going to expose my mom's anonymity to Katniss for the sake of explanation. And besides, my mom hasn't been that person in years. "Then, there are drunks like I was…well, like I _am._"

"Which is…?"

"A complete and utter moron. Like, so insanely stupid and self-serving that it's a miracle I didn't get the shit kicked out of me earlier than I did."

"Um…okay…"

I sigh again. There's no more time for preamble. _Rip the bandage off, Mellark. If you're going to fuck all this up here and now, get it over with quickly. That way you can still call Madge to come over and calm your ass down before you do something stupid, like hit up a liquor store._

"Last November, I was out at this bar. Not my regular bar, because my drinking buddies had called it an early night for once and I didn't want to hang out at our normal spot by myself. So I wandered over to this place called The Hob, set myself up at the bar, and started pounding down my normal gin and tonics. And the bartender was cute…really, really cute. She looked really familiar, but I was so blitzed I couldn't place her. We flirted. She threw me a drink or two on the house, and when one of the other patrons started getting a little handsy with her, I told him to back off. She seemed nice, you know. Like the kind of girl I might have wanted to take out on a date or two. So when I saw her counting out her drawer, I figured I could get her number out of her so I could maybe call her sometime…"

"I'm going to guess you skipped over the dates and just jumped into bed with her?" Katniss says, cutting me off. _Well, damn…I didn't have to say it._

"Yeah. Sure did. Back at her place, no less," I tell her. This is where my story really goes to shit and I'm revealed as a gigantic asshole. This is the part I've been dreading.

"Did she, like…give you something?" she says warily. She's probably wondering if I've got herpes or something. I suppose, in retrospect, that would have been worse…

"No. I may have been blitzed out of my mind, but she had the presence of mind to make sure I wore a condom. No, the trouble started when her boyfriend stopped by because she hadn't answered any of his texts all day and he was getting worried…"

"Oh, shit…"

"And it, uh…well, it turned out that the reason the girl looked so familiar was because I'd met her before. And uh…turns out, I knew her boyfriend pretty well to boot."

"One of your drinking buddies?" she ventures.

"Worse. Way fucking worse. My brother, Rye."

"Oh _shit._"

"Yeah…he always had a mean left hook, but I hadn't been on the receiving end of it since we were really little kids. And that had just been messing around. When he really puts his weight behind it, because he's just found his little brother cock-deep inside the girl he's been dating since our father's funeral, it's a bit more extreme. Extreme enough to break my nose and crack a few ribs, at the very least. Had I not been a bit faster on my feet, or if she and I hadn't been in such a hurry and had actually undressed all the way, it would have been a lot worse. And in all honest, I probably _deserved _way worse," I tell her. I sit up and scoot away slightly so we aren't touching anymore. I don't want her touching me in this moment. Hell, I don't even want my skin touching me. I feel dirty. Like some sort of cheap man-whore that deserved everything he got and more.

"Oh…Peeta…" she says sadly. _Fuck. Me. Here it comes. Glad I got to kiss her when I did, I guess. _

Which is a weird thought to have as warm, supple lips press against your own.

_Great: a goodbye kiss. That's even worse._

Except she doesn't break away. Her tongue runs along my bottom lip as if to ask to gain entrance into my mouth. She shifts her hips so she's not only touching me again, but straddling my lap. She runs her hands through my hair before locking her arms around my shoulders. When we come up for air, she pulls my face so it's flush against her neck and holds me there. This doesn't make an ounce of sense—shouldn't she have called me a dick and stormed off by now? Shouldn't I be wallowing in the depths of self-pity and loathing because I just admitted to the girl I'm nuts about that I was a willing participant in what was later revealed to be staged and very planned infidelity? Why the hell is she still here?

"Thank you," she whispers a moment later.

"What for?" I ask, completely befuddled.

"For being honest. And for not being that guy anymore," she says. She sounds completely confident in her words. She genuinely doesn't think I'm _that guy_ anymore.

The last time I'd been _that guy, _Gale and Madge had found me, stumbling home from my brother's house, still lit and using my windbreaker to staunch the blood seeping out of my nose. It had hurt to breathe because of my cracked ribs. All I wanted to do was lay down. I'd tried to fight Gale off as Madge told him to grab me and put me in the backseat so they could take me to the hospital, but all that did was make me entire body hurt that much more. Hours later, after Hazelle Hawthorne had admitted me and started me on fluids, after gauze had been shoved up my nostrils and my septum reset and my ribs taped, Madge had sat on the corner of my bed and laid her hand over mine. She asked me what had happened. I told her, "I don't want to be _this guy_ anymore", and she'd held my hands tightly in hers as I'd burst into tears.

Even more than I had in that moment, that rock-bottom epiphany that I was too messed up for my own good, I crave never being _that guy _again. _That guy_ would never be good enough for Katniss Everdeen. And Katniss Everdeen is now second behind 'sobriety' on my list of things I want most desperately in the world.

I kiss her again, forcing it to be chaste and sweet, but hoping it communicates the unending gratitude I feel towards her in this moment. She smiles at me and snuggles against my chest.

"I'm so glad I found you," she says so quietly I'm barely sure she's really said it.

"I'm glad I'm not so lost anymore," I respond. "Now that you've found me, though…what exactly might you plan to do with me?"

"Put you somewhere you can't get hurt again. Where you can give me massages. And make me cheesecake," she says so coyly, I can't help but laugh at her.

"I'll allow it," I tell her as she kisses me again.

* * *

I don't know when we drift off to sleep, but we don't wake up until almost noon. Rather, I wake up—she's sound asleep next to me and me getting up out of bed doesn't disturb her at all. It's everything I can do to not grab my phone and take a hundred pictures of the adorable expression on her face as she fists the covers around her and sleeps oh-so soundly. She's so breathtaking. And she's in _my _bed.

But if she wakes up to see me staring at her she might get the wrong impression, so I get up and go about my day as if it's any other day and not the day I finally woke up with Katniss Everdeen lying next to me. I put on a pot of coffee and steal a couple of bites of the cheesecake we hadn't quite finished the night before. I decide to make baked eggs for us for breakfast and fumble around the kitchen as quietly as I can, glancing over to check on her when I've placed the eggs in the oven to make sure she's still asleep. When I see she is, I slip quietly out the front door for a morning cigarette, all the while reminding myself that she's curled up in my bed not twenty feet away. It seems too good to be true.

I'm lighting my second when my door cracks open. The oversized t-shirt and gym shorts she borrowed from me to sleep in are rumpled and the shorts are riding hazardously low on her hips. She's already helped herself to a cup of coffee and sips it possessively when she joins me at my side looking over the parking lot.

"You know, it's a little weird that you sneak outside while I'm asleep," she says, her voice still husky from sleep.

I smile at her sheepishly. "I told you, I don't like smoking inside. And I don't like waking people up unnecessarily." _I want to kiss her good morning. Why the hell don't I kiss her good morning?_

"I guess it's alright then. Thanks for making coffee," she says, taking a slow sip of the steamy beverage. The weather is too chilly for us to be standing out here in bare feet, but neither of us moves to go back inside. I take a shot and tuck her into my side, careful to blow the smoke from my cigarette in the opposite direction of her face. In between puffs I bend my head down and nuzzle her neck softly. She shivers and a giggle escapes her lips. _Who knew she was capable of giggling?_

"Morning," I whisper into her ear.

"Good almost-afternoon, you mean," she corrects.

"It's my day off, I don't care one way or another," I tell her. I place my hand on her hip and feel goosebumps rise up on her skin. It's good to know I'm not the only one who feels positively electric like this.

"It may be your day off, but I still have to drive back to school and prep for tomorrow morning. You might be able to sit around in your underwear all day, but not everyone can."

"What do you need to prep? Maybe I can help," I ask, hoping beyond hope that I can convince her to stay another night and drive up early the next morning. It might be fruitless, but I'm just too reluctant to let her go so quickly.

She raises her eyebrows at me. "You don't want me to leave, do you?"

"Um…can you blame me?" I stammer out and puff wildly on my cigarette.

"No. I don't really want to leave, either. But I didn't bring any of my books or even my damn laptop, so I'm kind of stuck with going back tonight. But I mean that…I really don't want to leave," she says and presses herself further into my side.

I can't help that it hurts my heart to hear her say it, even though I know it's nothing personal. She has a life at school, a life outside of this weird little date night I treated her to and it doesn't exactly mesh with my life right now. I'm four months sober and every day is still a challenge. If I'm not careful, I could easily see myself replacing booze with this amazing girl who clearly still has no earthly concept of the effect she has on me. All the same I can no longer keep myself from kissing her soundly on the mouth. Her tongue moves willingly alongside mine. We taste of nicotine and black coffee and morning breath, but I can't help loving every second of it. I can't help how madly in love with her I know I am.

"This won't be the last time I see you, will it?" I say with cautious optimism when we break the kiss a minute later.

She shakes her head quickly. "Not if I can help it."

"Good enough," I say, running my hand along her side gently before turning her back towards the front door and leading her inside, all the while dreading the next time one of us steps over this threshold.

I learn that she dips her toast crusts in the yolk of her eggs, which she likes runny just like I do. She can finish almost an entire pot of coffee on her own, but if she does, her hands get shaky from all the caffeine. She develops a taste for grape juice, which she claims to not have had since she was a kid, and when she polishes off the bottle she promises to bring me several in return the next time she visits.

"When might that next time be?" I ask without being able to stop myself.

"Soon as I can make it. I promise," she says.

"Just let me know when you get on the road, so I can fake sick or something in case I have to work," I tell her with a small smile.

"You'd do that just to spend time with me, huh?" she asks shyly. I close my lips over hers to respond.

It's every ounce of willpower I have not to take her back to my bed before she goes, or burst in on her while she takes a shower in my bathroom. But it doesn't seem right, at least not yet. It's something the old Peeta would have done—seduce her too quickly, have way-too-quick and way-too-drunken sex.

It strikes me as I'm adjusting my pants on my hips to hide my growing erection from her when she steps out of the bathroom that I can't remember the last time I had sex sober. Not that there have been dozens, of course, but searching through my most recent sexual partners, I realize that every time I'd been intimate with one of them I'd been blitzed out of my mind. I couldn't tell you what making love to a woman while sober is like if I tried. This suddenly has me completely panicked that when it comes to it, I'll be completely insufficient when I finally get to that point with Katniss. The idea of not being able to please her suddenly terrifies me to the point where I go completely soft a second later.

We still find ourselves kissing and holding one another for the rest of the afternoon, prolonging the moment of our goodbye as long as possible. She finally says that she has to get going when the sun starts to slip from the sky; I pack up some of the leftover Chinese and cheesecake into the paper take-out bag for her to take back to school. She pets Sammy quickly before walking hand in hand with me to her car. She places the bag and her purse in the front seat quickly before turning and throwing her arms around my neck again. We can both tell the other is trembling. I wonder if her eyes are as damp as mine.

"My defense is in three weeks. Do you think there's any chance you'd come?" she asks.

"I'd love to," I respond. I feel her nod slowly and take a deep breath.

"Good. That'll make it a bit more tolerable," she murmurs. I'm not sure if she means the public speaking part, or the part where she has to leave me. I hope it's at least a bit of the latter.

It hurts to push her back slightly, but I realize quickly that if I don't do it we'll be standing out there forever. I brush my knuckles against her cheek and kiss her softly. "I'm really glad you came."

"Me too. Don't tell Gale though, okay? I'd never hear the end of not calling him to hang out," she says, a reluctant smile crossing her face. She kisses me again, even quicker this time and jingles her keys in her hand. "Don't forget about me again?"

"I never forgot about you. I was just a chicken. I won't do it again, I promise. But you should go before this gets any harder," I tell her. She nods and opens the driver's side door and slides behind the wheel. I close the door gently behind her and press my fingertips onto the glass. She does the same thing on the other side briefly before she starts the engine. I wave as she pulls out of the parking space, sighing heavily when her car turns out of the lot and disappears from sight.

I chain smoke the last of my pack as it sinks in that she won't be there when I go back inside. But then again…three weeks compared to half a lifetime of loving her and _not_ having her is really next to nothing.

* * *

**A/N: These last two chapters are for _sohypothetically_, who went through this like three times hunting for rogue commas and making sure the massage scene made sense to people who aren't massage therapists like me. Thank you, lady, as always.**

**Quick reminder to come play with me and SH over on Tumblr: alltherightfriendsff dot tumblr dot com (my dedicated fic blog), baronesskika dot tumblr dot com (my personal blog), and sohypothetically dot tumblr dot com (SH's hybrid fic/personal blog). As always, I value your feedback more than I can tell you! Thanks for leaving it below! Much love to you all!**


	11. Nights Wrapped in Ecstasy

_Nights, cold nights wrapped in ecstasy_

_Those times still perplexing be_

_They just be_

_All of the time you show me your love_

_Sweet love_

_And oh, how you know_

_This sweet love_

-James Yuill

* * *

I trade a few shifts with Finnick and Annie so I can head out early the Monday before Katniss is supposed to present her thesis defense. Gale, Madge, and the rest of the Hawthorne clan are supposed to drive in the next morning so we can watch her presentation and all go out to celebrate her achievement. Hazelle had been over the moon when I'd admitted that Katniss and I were…whatever we were.

"I so hoped she'd find someone to ground her one day. You're perfect for one another, Peeta, really," she'd said as I served a cheesecake to the entire flock. I must have turned three different shades of red for all the crap Rory and Vick gave me for it. But I didn't care. I was far too excited about what was possible between us to care.

When I swing by Wanderer's on my way out of town, Serenity grins at me like a cat who's gotten into the catnip plant. "You're going off to get laid, aren't you?"

"Jesus, Ren, tell the entire coffee shop about your booty call suspicions, why don't you?" I tell her while I stir half and half into my coffee.

"Am I wrong?" she asks with a smirk. When I don't answer she tells the girl at the register she needs a second and drags me out for a smoke. "This is the girl you pussied out of kissing a few weeks ago, right?"

"Yeah. And her name is Katniss," I tell her.

"Pretty name. Pretty girl. So what's your hang up?" she asks, blowing smoke out from between her teeth.

I sigh. Serenity has become a good friend, but she doesn't know all the ins and outs of my addiction and current recovery—it just hasn't come up. And I don't exactly have the time to explain it now.

"She's just…God, Ren, she's incredible. She came to see me a few weeks ago, stayed at my place even…"

"Dear Lord, Peeta, if you tell me you didn't at least make _some _move on her, I will swap your espresso for decaf…"

"We kissed. We shared a bed, but we didn't have sex because _neither _of us were ready. But we've been talking ever since, and about more and more…well…intimate topics. And it's pretty clear that it could very well happen this week, but…ugh," I say reluctantly.

She nods, like she's seriously considering my predicament. "I don't need to know the details of your last one-night stand, understand, but…when was your last relationship?"

It takes a minute to recall when the last time I'd had a proper girlfriend was and not just a girl I took out once or twice before sleeping with her a handful of times before we went our separate ways. Finally, the girl's face and name appear in my head all at once. "Marina Morgan. That was, shit, two years ago, I guess."

"How was the sex?"

"Alright. Nothing mind blowing. Frequent enough, I guess," I admit, not wanting to admit to Serenity that most of the reason Marina and I had called it quits was my rapidly increasing booze dependence.

"Don't think of Katniss as another Marina, then. Girls hate being compared to the ex. Start all over with her. Clean slate. I think we both know you deserve that. I'm sure she does, too. And when in doubt, make frequent trips to dine at the Y, if you know what I mean," Serenity says with a wink.

"Your husband is a pussy champ, isn't he?" I say, shaking my head at her crassness.

"Why do you think I married him?" she grins as she begins shooing me away. "Go on, go get some! Use protection, I'm not ready to be weird Auntie Ren who feeds Daddy his caffeine drip every day."

"Yes ma'am," I say, giving her a quick hug and feeling even more conflicted now than I had when I'd stepped though the door.

* * *

My nerves cause me to chew on my already short fingernails as pull off the freeway and get closer and closer to Katniss's off-campus apartment. The monotone navigation voice on my phone guides me into a little complex not unlike my own, save for the gated entryway. I punch in the code that Katniss had texted me earlier and find a spot in front of her building with relative ease. As I finish the cigarette clamped in between my fingers, I go through the contents of my duffle bag again quickly in my mind, just for something to do.

_Socks…button down shirt for her defense presentation and the meal with the Hawthornes right afterwards…pajamas…toothbrush…condoms…_

_Wait…oh shit!_

I search through the bag quickly, knowing full well that the box of prophylactics I'd purchased specifically for this trip is sitting in the Walgreens bag on the vanity in my bathroom. In Sammy's boredom with being left alone for two days, she's probably already made a toy out of the bag itself in between trips to the overflowing food dish and water bowl.

_Shit, shit, shit…what the hell was I thinking?_

I saw a drug store on my way into this part of town, but I decide not to double back. For all I know, I've completely misinterpreted Katniss's messages from the last several days. Maybe bringing a full box of condoms was presumptuous. I might end up sleeping on her couch, far away from her perfectly round—_shit. I'm such a goner._

I head up the stairs to her apartment with the condomless bag in hand and tap at the door, even more nervous than I was before. I rip the corner of my thumbnail painfully away from the nail bed with my teeth before the door bursts open. But the person on the other side is most definitely _not _the girl I'd been stressing out over for the last two hours.

"Oh. My. Gosh…_Peeta!_" the girl's voice shrieks excitedly as she surges forward to give me a hug. Suddenly my brain is assaulted by memories of cloying cotton candy body spray and butterfly barrettes in blonde curls.

"Delly?" I ask, completely baffled when the girl pulls away to hold me at arm's length.

"It's a small world, right? I knew there couldn't be too many Peeta's out there, but I still find it unbelievable that _you're _the Peeta my roommate has been mooning over for the last several weeks. Oh my gosh, she'll kill me if she hears me say that. Come in, come in! Kat! Kat, come on out from hiding, why don't ya?" Delly shouts out as she tugs me over the threshold and closes the door behind her.

"How…how are you, Delly? It's been…"

"Ten years since we moved away. I thought it was such a small world when Katniss told me where she was from, but I was sure no one there would really remember me. She certainly didn't! Kat! He's here, ya dummy!"

Delly Cartwright was my neighbor growing up. We used to color the sidewalks with chalk in the summertime and play on swing sets well past sundown until my mother's abusive tendencies chased me indoors at a more reasonable hour. But Delly never judged or had a bad thing to say about Mom, even after Dad left her. She'd been a chubby, affectionate teenager that had also been my very first kiss on a dare from her older brother. We'd lost contact after her parents moved the family away, so seeing her now, intertwined with my reality of dating the girl that I'd been in love with for almost as long as I'd known Delly herself was bizarre. She still has curves, now in much more strategic places, but she is already proving to be just as bubbly as I remember from childhood.

_Good Lord…how the hell did _this _roommate arrangement work out?_

"Cool it, Dell, I was trying to finish with that damn blow-dryer of yours…what were you…oh," Katniss says as she steps out of the bathroom, her wavy brown locks loosely hanging around her shoulders.

"I was just trying to tell you that _he's _here and _I'm_ about to leave to meet Thom. I'll probably crash at his house tonight, too, but, oh my gosh, Peeta, we should catch up before you head back home, okay? It was so good seeing you!" Delly says, giving me another quick hug before disappearing out the front door in a frenzy.

As soon as she's out of sight, Katniss launches herself into my arms so fast it almost knocks me over. Her legs lock around my torso as I hold her aloft by her hips and our kisses are feverish and desperate. I feel the nerves I'd been harboring leave my body as soon as she's in my arms again. _I should have just driven faster and not stopped for coffee, _I think before the heat from Katniss's body overloads my senses.

"Missed you," she says between kisses to my lips and cheeks. I groan as her lips lock around my left earlobe.

"I…I kinda noticed…" I say, trying to get a handle on everything before just the pressure of her in my arms is enough to get me off. I set her back down and place my hands on either side of her face to kiss her much slower, much more befitting a reunion such as this. And, in all honesty, one that doesn't leave me quite such a quivering mess. "Hi," I say after we come back up for air.

"Hi. Thanks for coming," she says, beaming up at me. She grabs my hand, forgoing a tour of her apartment to lead me straight to her bedroom.

"You're welcome…you could have mentioned Delly Cartwright is your roommate at some point, though," I tell her.

"Honestly, I'd kind of forgotten all about her until I saw the ad she'd put on the bulletin board at school looking for a roommate. She recognized me right away, though…I've spent the last year and a half just trying to keep up with her," Katniss admits with a laugh.

"We grew up together, she and I. God, it seems like forever ago," I say, my voice far off. Forever and an alcohol problem ago. Funny how that's my reality these days, as if I've forgotten about the AA chips pressed against my chest for a bizarrely brief second.

She closes the bedroom door behind us and pulls me down next to her on her bed. She claims my lips again and sinks down on the mattress, and her body just feels _so good _against mine. And I was the bonehead that forgot the damn condoms.

"Katniss—" I try to get out between kisses, but to no avail. Finally I push back against her and have the decency to look sheepish.

"Is everything okay?" she says, looking up at me with concern. How I could have mixed up her messages, possibly interpreting them as anything but excitement to be _with me _with me is beyond me right now.

"Yeah it's…God, it's amazing to see you, and I'm so glad I'm here, but…I kind of well—I forgot some things that I figured I'd bring in case things escalated, and here you are, and here we are, and I'm not exactly prepar—" I stammer before she kisses me flush on the mouth again.

Her face is devious when we break for air again. "Don't worry. I was a Girl Scout…I'm always prepared." She scoots out from where I'm pressed on top of her and gets to her feet suddenly and is yanks my shoes off my feet. "But, as nice as _that _would be right now, I have a favor to ask of you before…well, _anything _else happens."

"Shoot," I tell her, letting her tug off my socks while trying to calm my heart rate at the same time.

"You're going to laugh at me," she says, making quick work of the other shoe and sock.

"Maybe. What do you need?" I say with a smirk. Her bed is small but comfortable and I lounge on it as I watch her cross her room to her desk.

"I've been running through the talking points of my defense with Delly and Haymitch and pretty much everyone that will let me bore them for 45 minutes but I'm still having…you know, trouble dealing with the nerves. And I don't want to get up there tomorrow and act like a moron, you know?" she says, flipping through a few note cards.

"It's been a long time since debate team, Katniss, but I'd be happy to listen if you'd like me to," I finish for her. She grins at me, but not in the way I'd expect of her when she's grateful for my offer.

"Um…is it true that speaking coaches tell you to picture your audience naked when you're nervous?" she squeaks out before clamping down on the side of her lip with her teeth.

I feel my eyes widen considerably. "Some do, yes…"

"Could we…could you, actually…" she stutters out before cutting herself off.

_Jesus Christ. She's asking me to strip for her so she can get over her nerves._

"Just to see if it works, of course. I just don't want to stammer up there, you know? I've worked so hard on this, and I want to sound professional…competent…" she begins again, her cheeks flushing brighter than I imagined they could.

_She's so gorgeous. So perfect. I'd do anything she asked me in this moment, she's so captivating. Does she have any idea? Any idea at all?_

"We could try it," I shrug, hardly believing my own words. She bites her lip a little harder before she turns around in her spot and nods her head.

"Get comfy, then. And my pillows are just there, if you'd like them to, you know…"

I can't help but laugh at her just a bit. First she asks me to get naked. Then she asks me to cover my dignity with her pillows. She's incredible. She's unbelievable.

_She's the girl of your fucking dreams, you stupid idiot. Now strip!_

"Right…gimme a second," I tell her and get to my feet to start undressing. Having never been in a situation where a woman's telling me to get naked so she can practice a speech, I'm not really sure of the protocol here. Do I do it slow? Fast as possible? Do I leave my shorts on and hope the pillows she told me to cover up with really will hide the shame of my quickly growing erection?

She taps her foot, her back still turned to me. "Come on, now, be a good boyfriend and…" She freezes midsentence.

_Your Katniss. My Peeta. A good boyfriend. Does Katniss mean it, or did she just put her foot in her mouth?_

She clears her throat. "Um…Peeta, if this is going too fast for you, I can slow everything down…"

"No. It's okay. I'm almost done," I tell her, barely able to suppress my glee. I decide to slide my boxer briefs off and pile them along with the rest of my clothes on the floor of her room before I sit back and pull one of her pillows into my lap. I lean against the wall and look at the back of her. "Ready when you are."

She fiddles with her notecards with her back still turned towards me. She clears her throat again like something's stuck in it. Then she sighs and turns around.

"Good afternoon. My name is Katniss Everdeen, Masters candidate in the college of Environmental and Ecological Sciences. With your permission, I'd like to present to you my thesis, entitled _Flawed Impact: a Look at Parks, Zoos, and Nature Preserves and Environment Causality_," she says, finally looking up from her notecards to see me staring back at her. Her voice catches. I smile at her.

"You may proceed, Miss Everdeen," I say in a gruff voice that is not my own. She smiles tightly with just the left corner of her mouth and presses on.

And she's not bad. Mr. Flickerman, my debate coach in high school, would have been proud. She stumbles a few times, but always takes a deep breath before continuing on. Her nerves show the tiniest bit here and there, but otherwise, she sounds like she knows exactly what she's talking about.

"Thank you, gentlemen, for your time," she concludes a short while later. "I'll happily take questions at your leisure."

I applaud loudly and she grins in response. She taps her notecards together and places them on the desk behind her. She stands there awkwardly for a minute, biting her lip and looking genuinely vulnerable and beautiful. I sigh quickly and decide to bite the bullet. "Come here," I ask, holding out my hand towards her and beckoning her towards me. All sense of awkward and weird is gone in a minute and she strides over to me like that was exactly her intention all along. She kneels in front of me and takes my offered hands where I place them on the pillow on my lap and studies them carefully.

"You did good," I tell her honestly. "And you'll do just fine tomorrow, I promise."

She nods, still not taking her eyes off our intertwined hands. "You're a good sport, you know. Doing…well, this for me." She finally looks me in the eye and I swear her eyes darken in front of mine. Her tongue darts out to moisten her lips nervously. I steal a hand from her grasp and use it to tuck a piece of hair behind her ear.

"I'm happy to do anything you need me to do, Katniss," I tell her honestly.

"Then stay. Please?" she whispers.

"Where did you think I was gonna go?" I ask, a little confused.

"I mean…like this…like you are now," she says and bites down on her lip again. My own lips make a little 'o' of understanding, but I nod and caress her cheek with the back of my hand.

"Gladly," I tell her.

"And…kiss me?" she asks, quieter than she'd asked before.

I move my hand to the back of her head and pull her face towards mine. Her lips are warm and they tremble ever so slightly when I press my own against them. It takes me a minute to realize it, but hers aren't the only ones. An burst of electricity shoots between us, all nerves and excitement and need. I know we both feel it.

"Katniss, are you sure…" I begin when our kiss ends, but she covers my lips with her own again quickly, too quickly.

"Yes," she whispers against my lips as she shimmies forwards and sits on the pillow in my lap. Despite nothing in her thesis presentation being remotely sexual, I'd been semi-hard the entire time I listened to her speak. Now I'm fully at attention and I'm sure she can tell. She pivots her hips ever-so-slightly against my own, making me groan into her mouth. She does it again, more deliberately this time and seems to revel in the sounds my throat produces when she does. I wonder how long she's going to tease me like this when suddenly she's off my lap entirely, her lips no longer anywhere near my own; it feels wrong and foreign, like she's left the place she's meant to be.

"C-can I?" she says, looking down at the pillow she'd vacated, her thumb and forefinger clasped around one of the corners. Her eyes dart from mine to her hand nervously. I close my palm over her hand and squeeze gently. She reads it as the permission she'd sought from me and agonizingly slowly, she pulls the pillow off me. Something catches in her throat when she looks down at me. My cock twitches as it stares back at her, making her laugh.

"Has a mind of its own, sorry," I say bashfully, taking her hand in my own again and bringing her palm to my lips. I nuzzle little kisses into spaces between her fingers and it's her turn to moan.

"That's not it…you're just a little…um, intimidating…" she says, her jaw going slack at the end of her sentence as I ghost my lips up her wrist to midway up her forearm. I nip at the skin there and quirk my eyebrows.

"Really?" I ask. I'm not really sure if someone's ever complimented my penis before. If they had, I was far too drunk to remember.

"Really," she says. "Don't stop…"

I nibble slightly at the crook of her elbow and continue to kiss up her biceps, leaning forward when I reach the top of her shoulder and work over her collarbones. My lips pause over the strap of her tank top and I look up at her hungrily.

"Hardly seems fair, you know. Me being naked and you…not…" I whisper. Without hesitation, she holds both her arms up over her head. I kiss her once more on the mouth before hooking my fingers under the hem of her shirt and pull upwards slowly, very slowly, exposing just a few inches of her abdomen at a time, then finally her strapless bra, her cleavage, until finally it's off her torso entirely and flung next to my clothes on the floor.

"Beautiful," I murmur reverently as I lean forward to kiss the skin I've just exposed, afraid that if I don't taste it soon it'll disappear. I catch her eye as she quirks her head at me.

"What did you say?" she asks quietly.

"I said you're beautiful," I tell her between peppering kisses over the cups of her bra. My fingers roam across her sides freely, making her skin pebble up and her breath catch in her throat again. _God, that sound…_

"Is this…mmm…is this too fast, Peeta? For you, I mean?" she asks as I arch my neck at a sharp angle to brush my lips over her ribcage. My heart pounds in my ears.

"No," I tell her honestly. "I've wanted this for…I can't even tell you how long. I've wanted you for forever."

"Really?" she gasps slightly when I press my lips against her stomach again.

"Really," I tell her, sitting back up slowly and capturing her lips again. My hands trail down to the waist of her yoga pants and rest there softly. It's my turn to ask the obvious question. "May I?"

She nods quickly, pivoting herself off the bed right in front of me so I can slide the soft, well-worn material down her hips. I discover to my unending glee that she isn't wearing any panties. A triangular patch of soft hair rests at the apex of her thighs and my cock twitches again. I rake my eyes back up to meet hers as she twists an arm behind her and unclasps her bra. It falls to the floor and two perfectly round, dusty rose colored nipples stare at me. If I thought she was beautiful before, I severely misunderstood the effect seeing her fully naked would have on me.

I pull on her arms so she settles back down on the bed. She moves to sit astride my lap, but I push her chest gently off to my side so she's flat on her back. I run my hand slowly from the top of one of her bent knees over her thigh, her stomach, up to her chest where I dare just enough to close my palm around one of her breasts. _That sound…_

Her flesh is so soft, so malleable. I bite my own lip as I struggle with the thought of closing my lips around her perfect little nipple that I startle when she twines her hand in my hair.

"It's okay. You can…do whatever you want. Please," she says, her voice an octave lower than I've ever heard it before. I don't hesitate any longer before I close my mouth over the perky little bud and suck it greedily into my mouth.

Every noise Katniss makes sets my body on fire and I find myself daring my tongue to do different things to keep the noises coming and coming. She hisses when my teeth graze against her flesh a bit too hard. She keens as I run the flat bit of my tongue along the pointed peak of her other nipple, lavishing it in the same attention I'd paid the first. I keep listening for the catch in her throat that had driven me so wild before, but it's replaced with dozens of other equally delicious noises that I don't mind at all. My fingertips roam over every inch of skin I can easily reach, including the soft patch of hair between her legs. When they do, she gasps so suddenly I worry I've done something to hurt her.

"What, what's wrong?" I ask quickly, my eyes training on hers for any sign of panic or reluctance etched on her face. Instead all I see is a slack jaw and hooded, impatient eyes.

"Don't stop," she moans. "Please."

I close my mouth around her breast again and let my fingers resume their task. Her thighs fall open just enough to let my hand sneak further down, down until finally…

"Oh, God," she whimpers out as my fingers slide along the folds between her legs. I repeat the words in my own head over and over. _Oh God, she's so warm. Oh God, she's wet, positively dripping. Oh God, I want her so badly._

"Katniss, I want to…" I begin as she pushes down on the crown of my head, already knowing what I'm going to say.

"Please," she begs and spreads even further as I slither down to crouch in between her thighs. I can see signs of her arousal on my fingertips and it's everything I can do to not suck them into my mouth. Instead I slowly lower my face to her center and open my mouth to taste her. She tosses her head against the pillows behind her and cries out as my tongue darts out to lick along her folds. She's salty and musky and so inherently female—but I can't remember anyone else tasting as good.

So I worship her with my mouth. I explore every inch of her sex with my tongue, my lips, my fingertips. When my top lip locates the little hood over her clitoris, she lifts her hips up and grinds them against my face. I moan against the sensitive little bud and lap at it possessively, as through it's a prize I've worked very, very hard to win. And I'm rewarded by her crying out my name as I work, turning it into a mantra along with "Yes" and "More" and "Oh, God". I suckle at it greedily, daring suddenly to slide my index finger inside her slowly, knuckle by knuckle until it's buried inside her to the hilt. Her walls squeeze around it instantly.

"More," she pants out. I slide my middle finger inside her quickly to join the first digit and curl them softly against her velvety walls. Her hips lift off the bed again and her hand pulls harshly on my hair. I keep my fingers moving and my tongue lapping and before long, her cries grow even louder, even more wanton. I want her to come _so_ badly, I want to do this for her to show her how beautiful she is to me, how much I—

"Peeta!" she cries out and clamps her thighs around my face. Her walls tremble around my fingers and she pants as she rides out her orgasm. I gasp against her as I twist my fingers out of her slowly and kiss her folds softly before letting my lips trail back up her trembling body. Her arms wrap around my shoulders when I reach her neck. I nuzzle against the skin there, listening to her desperately trying to catch her breath and can't help but smile at myself.

_Perfect. Perfection. And she's _mine.

"Are you okay?" I ask gently, stroking her hair with my still moist fingers. She nods her head quickly, her eyes clamped shut and breath still uneven.

"You're incredible," she pants, stroking the side of my face as she continues to recover. She kisses me firmly a minute later and I feel my erection twitch against her thigh. A devious smile crosses her face and she pushes me flat on my back and kneels beside me. "Your turn," she says impishly and begins to shimmy down my body.

My eyes roll back in my head as soon as her hot mouth closes around me. Her fingernails splay against my hips and my hands fist the covers beneath me as she bobs her head up and down, slowly but surely. _She wants me to last, _I realize. I groan out when her teeth graze me gently. _She's amazing._

I focus on the feeling of her mouth enveloping me, her tongue laving over my tip before plunging down over my full length, taking me just a hair deeper every time; my hips buck up against her without my intending them to. She moans against me as if to indicate she doesn't mind in the slightest. _She feels so good…so impossibly good…_

I tangle my fingers in her hair and pull her head away from my cock suddenly. She mewls pathetically at the interruption, so I sit up quickly to mesh our lips together once more. "I wanna last for you," I tell her hungrily as I lavish her throat with kisses. She moans her consent and arches her neck back for me to do with the skin there as I wish. For the tiniest second I let my mind wander, thinking back ever-so-briefly to other girls, other beds, other times my cock has been pressed up against the heated flesh of a woman's center without actually being encased by her and I gasp when I realize it.

It's all _shiny. _Silvery and blurred at the edges. Other moans laced with lust and desperation, other hips snapping against mine, begging to be filled and pleased as quickly as possible. And me obliging, my head never really clear, never quite cognizant enough to realize that girl wasn't what I actually needed—just what I momentarily wanted.

But now…_now it's only Katniss. _The sounds she makes. The way her body writhes against mine. Her smell, her taste, her smooth skin and soft hair. _And there is nothing shiny about her._

Her body shies away from me for a moment and her hand disappears into the drawer on her nightstand. I miss her instantly and rake my fingers through her hair to remind myself that this is real, that it's not just my imagination. She turns back to me quickly, her small fingers fumbling with a bit of foil. I close my hands around hers to help and together we roll the thin slip of latex down my length. She lays back against her pillows again, letting her legs fall open for me and beckons to me with the curl of her fingers.

"Please," is all she says. It's enough to drive me wild. I get on my knees between hers and position myself slowly at her entrance. "Please, Peeta," she gasps into my ear as I begin to slide inside her. My hips snap forward faster than I meant them to, causing her to hiss suddenly. I brush her hair out of her face and begin to murmur out a thousand apologies for hurting her.

"No, it's not…oh, God, Peeta…" she says, her eyes closing as she starts to thrust her hips against mine. She's so impossibly tight and warm. So perfect. So ready. I grunt into her hair as I start to thrust into her and _there's that noise again from her throat. _

"Katniss…you're perfect," I tell her as I roll my hips into her again and again. Every one of my senses is taken over by her completely. Her nails claw at my back and her head nods. Her legs circle around my hips and lock at the ankles behind me, bringing me that much farther inside of her.

"Please don't stop," she pants, locking her gaze with my own. "You feel too…oh, God…"

I snap my hips hard against hers, reveling in her cry when I do. I grab one of her legs from behind my back and press her calf into my chest. The different angle makes her keen beautifully and I press light kisses against her ankle. She clamps her walls around me like a vice and hisses for me to hurry, practically begging me to make her come again. But this is too good, too incredible, and I want it to last and last…so I lower my fingers to where we're connected and find her clit again.

She's so sensitive to my touch that I have her thrashing beneath me quickly. She cries out my name again and it spurs me on. I press her leg back against her, marveling only momentarily in her flexibility as I pound my hips against hers. I want to make her mine. I want her to know everything she's done to me has just been bliss. She nods and pulls my face against hers, sucking greedily on my lips as we work together.

"Come for me, please," she begs after a long minute in this position.

"God, Katniss, yes—yes…" I breathe, my eyes closing involuntarily.

"Look at me. Look at me, Peeta, please," she commands. I open my eyes as she grasps at the skin of my back and hardens her stare. "Come for me."

I stare into her eyes, a darker grey now than I could ever have expected them to be. She puts her hand on the back of my head to bring our lips together and clenches herself around me. It's just a second later that I'm crying out my release against her lips, my cock pumping in and out of her a handful more times as I drop completely over the edge. She locks her legs around my hips again and pushes my face down so she's got me cradled against her breasts. We pant together, desperately filling our lungs with oxygen to make up for all that we've breathed out as we rode together to incredible completion.

"Katniss, that was…" I sigh after I've most re-gathered my wits.

"I know," she says, stroking my hair and pressing her cheek into the top of my head.

"No, you don't," I murmur. How do I explain this to her without sounding completely insane? "This was…I don't remember the last time I did _this _sober."

She strokes her hands down the side of my face and I kiss her fingertips. "How does it…um, compare?" she asks tentatively.

"It doesn't. Not at all. This was…God…"

"I really hope you're going to say better," she says nervously. I rear up on my hands and knees again so I can look down at her and kiss her fully.

"I can't even explain to you how much better. But I'm a little torn…I'm not sure if it's just because I'm sober, or because I'm with you," I tell her, stroking her face lovingly. She beams up at me.

"Can't it be both?" she ventures. I kiss her again.

"Must be," I say, resettling at her side and pressing her naked body flush against my own.

_Nothing shiny. All of it so real…I'm completely gone._

* * *

**A/N: Hope that pleased all those dirty minds out there. I'm pretty pleased with how it turned out, I don't mind saying!**

**As always, my beta _sohypothetically _helped me out immensely on this chapter. She's the greatest. Come play with us on Tumblr (baronesskika, sohypothetically, alltherightfriendsff dot tumblr dot com). Have a wonderful week, wonderful readers! **


	12. The Words That Don't Come Out

**Should this story get removed by FF, it's also available on Ao3. Thanks, as always, to you wonderful followers and reviewers for always being so fabulous. Feel free to come play with my beta and I on Tumblr (baronesskika, sohypothetically, alltherightfriendsff). The dedicated Tumblr for this story allows anonymous asks, and I'm happy to talk to you about anything and everything pertaining to this story or otherwise!**

**Happy reading!**

* * *

_You see the smile that's on my mouth_

_It's hiding the words that don't come out_

_And all of my friends who think that I'm blessed_

_They don't know my head is a mess_

_No, they don't know who I really am_

_And they don't know what I've been through like you do_

_And I was made for you..._

-Brandi Carlile

* * *

Madge hands me back my lighter after blowing out the first puff of smoke from the cigarette dangling between her lips. I tuck it back in my pocket and flick at the filter of my own with my thumbnail.

"She did really well up there. Better than she did with the speech at the wedding," Madge comments.

"She had more preparation for this, I think. Not to downplay the importance of your wedding, but this was a pretty big deal for her," I tell her.

She smirks. "I know it. I'm not so selfish of my own wedding memories that I'd downplay how big today was for Katniss. I'm really proud of her. I know Gale is beside himself. You, on the other hand…"

"You think I'm not happy for her?" I scoff.

"I wasn't going to say that. I was going to say that you look like the cat that got the canary," she says.

I feel my face color immediately. She giggles.

"I think she'll be good for you, Peet. She's grown up a lot since we were all in high school. She's more…emotionally available now. That's what you always needed. Just…promise me you'll be careful, okay?" she says.

"I have no intentions of knocking her up, Madge," I say seriously.

"I know _that_. I mean…you're still early on in your recovery. I just don't want you swapping out booze for sex and then needing both if something terrible happens. And I'm not saying it _will, _of course…but I'm still your sponsor, so I have to do the sponsorly thing and remind you to be cautious. Okay?" Madge says.

"I will be. I promise. But, for whatever it's worth: I think we're both on the same page about…well, a lot. She keeps telling me we can slow down if I need it, but I feel like everything is going exactly at the pace it should be, you know?" I decide to leave out the details of how mind blowing the sex truly is. About how she got me to come for her three times the day before and once more this morning. How I'd lost count of how many times she'd screamed my name in ecstasy. How I slept better in the couple of hours we were actually asleep last night than I have since that night she came over for the impromptu date-night-in.

"Good," she says as she stamps her cigarette out. "How much longer do you think that Q&A will last?"

"Long enough for me to smoke another, but I don't know about you," I tease her.

"Yeah, well…I'm trying to cut down. Make the eventual quitting easier on me. What, don't look so surprised! Not every recovering addict smokes for the rest of their lives. You don't plan to, do you?" Madge says defensively.

"No, but I'm 'still early in my recovery'. I know Gale doesn't care one way or the…wait. Madge Hawthorne, you're not…" I say, my eyes going wide as they train on her belly.

"No! At least…not yet. It's something we're talking about. Maybe in the next, I don't know, year or so…hence why I'm just cutting down," she says, folding her arms over her stomach protectively.

I'm sure I'm smiling at her like an idiot. "I think that's awesome. I think you _should_, soon as you're ready. You'd be a great mom."

"Well, don't make me have to practice on you too much in the meantime, will you? You're my sponsoree, not my baby, okay?" she says, a little smile quirking at her lips.

"Yes'm," I say before pulling her into a hug quickly. I really am over the moon at the idea. Something else to look forward to in my sobriety—being regular old "Uncle" Peeta, not "drunk-ass-Uncle" Peeta.

"Hey, Mellark! Don't you have a woman of your own?" Gale yells at me from the doorway of the auditorium.

"Maybe I'm collecting them, Hawthorne, you don't know!" I call back playfully. Madge swats my arm.

"Yeah, yeah…get back inside, would ya? Q&A is done, they'll be telling her any second," Gale calls out before disappearing behind the door.

"C'mon, finish your cancer-stick so we can go see if that girl of yours gets her Masters, shall we?" Madge teases as she nudges me towards the building.

I think for a second that I should correct her, remind her quickly that Katniss isn't _my girl_…but, then again, she'd made it pretty obvious over the last 24 hours that she _wanted _to be.

_Holy shit. Katniss Everdeen's my _girlfriend. The thought is wonderful and still a bit mind-boggling all at once.

In the auditorium, she's back behind the podium where she'd presented, drumming her stubby fingernails on the wood near the microphone. She senses that the mic is picking up on it and puts her hands behind her back nervously. I give her as broad a smile as I can muster, which seems to calm her slightly. I'd only meant to lick my lips to moisten them, not to be suggestive, but she sees that too and colors slightly.

_Well…not that we can't do _that _too before I go home tomorrow._

But I don't want to think too hard about tomorrow and leaving her behind again, even though I know it's not much longer before she'll be back at home herself. She hasn't worked out the exact details yet, but when her and Delly's lease is up in a few weeks, she's coming back for the foreseeable future. And this thrills me to no end.

"Right, Miss Everdeen?" the panel leader says suddenly, wrapping Katniss and everyone else's attentions immediately. "The panel has made their ruling. Based on your exhaustive research into the topic at hand, the recommendation of your advisor, Dr. Abernathy, your well-written and thought provoking thesis itself, and your commendable defense here today, we at the College of Environmental and Ecological Sciences at Panem University do hereby accept your candidacy for the title of Master of Science. Congratulations."

The first one out of his seat is Haymitch Abernathy himself, Katniss's advisor, who despite all appearances of being a surly, slightly drunken buffoon obviously genuinely cares for her. But Gale and I aren't too far behind him, to the point my hands sting a little bit once the panel excuses Katniss from the stage. Dr. Abernathy has her wrapped in a warm hug by the time the Hawthornes and I file down to greet her.

"Nice job, Sweetheart," is all I hear the man say. When she pulls away from him, I can see the beginnings of tears in her eyes; from stress, from exhaustion, from excitement, I can't tell. But after Gale lets her go from the massive bear hug he'd pulled her into, she heads straight into my arms where I hear her sniffle softly against my chest. Madge hands me a small packet of tissues from her purse and I nudge her face up to softly pat the tears away.

"You did great, Katniss," I tell her softly. I ache to kiss her, but I don't dare in front of everyone until she tells me it's okay to do so at some point. But apparently, I've overestimated how much she might mind because she kisses me fiercely on the mouth before she beams at me and burrows into my chest again, mumbling something about never wanting to speak in public again if she doesn't have to. Hazelle weasels her out of my arms after a minute more, wanting her turn to shower her with affection; when she does, Madge looks at me with a large smile, like she's watching a puppy take their first wobbly steps.

"Quiet, you," I tell her, color rising in my cheeks again.

"I didn't say anything," she says with a coy wink.

* * *

I know Delly doesn't mean it. She's always been sweet and caring and if she knew what kind of hell my addiction had been for so many years, how hard it is to not drink day in, day out, even after five months, she'd never have asked. Never have _begged_.

"Oh, come on, Peet! I promised Katniss I'd take her out and get her shit-faced after her defense and that's something you just _have _to see. She's hilarious when she's drunk!" Delly presses.

"I'm sure, Dell, but really, I'm good. You guys go out, have fun…" I say for the third time.

"But I haven't gotten a chance to catch up with you at all and you're leaving tomorrow! Come on, Peet, live a little bit!" she pleads.

_Come on, Peet, live a little bit. Come on, Peet, one more G&T…it's not gonna kill ya! Peet, first one to five shots wins! What does it matter what we win, we'll be too blitzed to know the difference!_

She backs off when she sees the dazed expression on my face when the voices of Cato and Johanna fill my head. I haven't talked to them since last year, entirely by design, of course. They aren't people I can trust myself to be around. And right now, she sounds just like them.

"Delly, no offense, but Peeta and I had actually talked about going to see a movie tonight. Gale, why don't you tag along with them, make sure they get home okay?" Madge interrupts, her voice not nearly as patient as mine had been.

"We'll, um…we'll have coffee in the morning, Dell, promise," I tell her.

Katniss bites her lip, having been rendered completely speechless by the entire exchange. Delly's huffy, but tromps off to Gale's car with him after he kisses Madge good night and offers to drive them in his car. "I'm…I'm sorry, Peeta," Katniss stammers out.

"It's okay. Have fun, you deserve it," I tell her, stroking her cheek idly with my fingers. She pulls her key ring out of her purse and hands it to me.

"Um…if you still want to stay at my place tonight, it's the one brass key. See you later?" she says tentatively.

I step forward and kiss her lightly on the lips. "Sure."

She waves goodbye to Madge quickly and follows Gale and Delly to their car. After they drive off, Madge lights a cigarette and puffs at it angrily.

"The fucking nerve on Delly, Jesus Christ," she says.

"She doesn't know, Madge. She didn't mean anything by it," I say quietly.

"Then Katniss should have said something!" she scowls.

"Katniss was respecting my privacy. What would you have wanted Gale to do? Out you to someone you haven't seen in almost ten years?" I say, my patience ebbing as the desire to follow after them and drink after all courses through me.

Madge knows immediately. "One to ten?" she demands.

"Seven. Eight, maybe."

She pulls open her phone calendar quickly and nods. "Come on. There's a meeting at a baptist church a few blocks over that just started. We can sneak in the back," she says.

"I appreciate the research, really, but can we just…I don't know, really go to that movie? Or coffee? Anything else. You can watch me the whole time, I promise," I tell her. She seems conflicted, but she nods finally and walks with me to my car. I steer us to the one movie theatre in town and we catch a last minute show of the newest zombie apocalypse flick. We're walking back to my car when Madge's phone rings.

"Hi, baby, how was…oh, are you fucking…no, take them both home! Peeta can sleep on the pullout in our room, I'm not going to…I don't care if she's asking for him! I'm not leaving him…"

"Madge, if this is about me, can I have a say in this?" I ask patiently.

She puts her phone down momentarily. "Delly got Katniss wasted at the bar. Gale's taking them home now, so you can stay at our hotel tonight with us…"

"Can I talk to Gale?" I ask, holding out my hand for her phone. She glares, but hands it to me all the same.

"Peet?" Gale says anxiously.

"Yeah, Gale. Madge told me the girls are a little tipsy?" I say into the phone.

"A lot, actually. But Katniss keeps—Delly, get your head back in the car!—she wants you to stay with her tonight all the same…" Gale says quietly.

"I will. I have her keys, so me and Madge will meet you at their place," I tell him with finality. Madge squeaks from my passenger seat.

"Um, 'kay. See you," he says before I hang up and hand the phone back to Madge.

"You are absolutely _not _staying there tonight, Peeta," she hisses at me.

"I'm a grown-up, Madge. Remember? You aren't my mother, you said so yourself," I tell her, starting the car and pulling out onto the street.

"It's a bad idea, Peeta. You shouldn't be around drunk people—"

"What? _Ever_ again in my life? Madge, I'm going to be around drinkers from time to time. I was at your wedding. Katniss was drinking my old drink of choice all night and I still had the willpower to give my glass of champagne back to the waiter, remember? I'm going home tomorrow and I want to spend the last night I'm here with my girlfriend, okay?" I tell her a little rougher than I meant to. But it's true. I want to be with Katniss, even if she isn't in the best state.

"What if they have booze in the house? Can you trust yourself enough to not go looking for it? You were at an eight two hours ago…" she argues.

"And now I'm at a four, Madge. I'm tired, I want to sleep and I want to sleep in a bed with Katniss, no matter what she's like right now. I'll be fine, okay? If I get past a five, I'll text you right away and you can come pick me up. But you can't fucking hover over me every second of every day," I snap.

She glares at me. I glare back. But she doesn't argue anymore, because I think she knows I'm not wrong. She has a point, sure. But it's my life, my recovery…and this is just something I'm going to need to deal with.

Gale's car is idling in front of the apartment building when we get there. Katniss is walking very slowly up the stairs while Gale has an arm around Delly and is helping her fit her house key into the lock. Madge pulls me into a quick hug and whispers in my ear. "Above a five, promise me. I just want what's best for you, Peet…"

I kiss her forehead quickly and give her my word. Then I'm up the stairs in a heartbeat, my arm around Katniss's waist. She smiles up at me and I can smell the alcohol on her breath.

"You came back," she slurs.

"Of course. How you feelin'?" I ask, helping her the rest of the way up the stairs.

"Pfffffft," she puffs out. A bit of her saliva lands on my cheek. "Delly fed me tequila. Tequila and I had an abusive relationship once. He kept asking me out, and I was always 'No, Tequila, I've trusted you 'fore and you always disappoint me!'. But tonight I gave the bastard a second chance, and now I…ugh…"

"We'll get you some water and get you to bed, okay?" I tell her. She almost trips up the top step, so I swing her up in my arms and carry her the rest of the way into the apartment right as Gale comes out of Delly's bedroom.

"She's passed out already. How you doing, Catnip?" Gale says, running his hand down her hair lightly.

"Hate…Delly…" she murmurs.

"That'll teach you to listen next time I tell you to slow down, won't it?" he replies with a bemused grin. She groans and buries her face in my collar. His look gets far more serious when he turns to me. "You sure you're okay, man?"

"Yeah, I'll be good. Figure it's karma…more than enough people took care of my drunk ass from time to time, figure it's about time to pay it forward. I promised Madge I'd call you guys if…"

He holds up his hand like he already knows what I'm going to say. I realize it's because he does. "I'll be here in ten minutes if you need anything. Get some sleep, alright?"

"Thanks man," I tell him.

"You're welcome, brother," he says, clasping my shoulder. "Night night, Catnip."

He's closing the door behind him as I walk her into her bedroom. I forgo turning on her overhead light for the much smaller one on her desk and lay her gently down on the bed. I make quick work of taking off her shoes and stockings, but leave her in the dress she's worn all day. She grumbles something I can't understand and presses her face into her pillow.

"Don't fall asleep yet, honey. I'm gonna get you some water, okay?"

She slurs out a "'Kay," and I slip from the room. I find a bottle of aspirin in the medicine cabinet in the bathroom and go for the fridge where I've seen her and Delly pull out bottles of chilled water. I have to squat down to pull one of the bottles out, and when I do, I see it—it's shoved towards the very back of the fridge behind a row of bottles of water and Chinese food containers, but it's there. I count ten amber bottles of some sort of local micro-brewed beer.

_It'd be so easy. Pop the cap. Chug it fast. Get back to Katniss before she has a chance to realize what you've done. Just one. Wouldn't even really be a proper drunk._

I grab the bottle of water with shaking hands and slam the door. Because I know better. I know one would turn into two. Then six. Then the slow, downward fucking spiral I was already halfway down when I got the call that my father had dropped dead.

I go back into Katniss's bedroom and force feed her the aspirin and water. She drinks the whole bottle in one gulp and slumps back down on the pillows.

"'M so sorry, Peeta. 'Ure prolly disappointed in me," she slurs out. I undress and throw on my pajama pants before I get into bed next to her. I can smell the tequila on her breath and it makes me want to gag.

"You're fine, Katniss. Let's go to sleep, okay? We'll talk more in the morning," I tell her, stroking her hair idly. She nuzzles her face into my bare chest and is out almost immediately. The pressure of her is heavy on my chest, but even in her state she stirs every time I move a fraction of an inch. I settle in and squeeze my eyes shut.

_It's good that I can't move. Moving means I could get up. Getting up means I could go to the kitchen. And going to the kitchen means I'd throw away five months of sobriety._

_I'm not willing to give up five months of sobriety_, I remind myself tersely. It's the last thing I remember thinking before I fall into a fitful sleep.

* * *

I wake up with the sunrise. Katniss has moved to the other side of her bed and is snoring softly. Her hair is spread out like a waterfall on the pillow next to mine. I lean over and press a soft kiss behind her ear. She still smells like booze. But the craving is gone, or at least no worse than it usually is this time of day. It's still there, but it's easier to control.

She has a small balcony off the side of her room. I get out of bed slowly, not bothering to put on shoes or a shirt and step out onto it quietly to smoke a cigarette. I end up finishing my pack before going back inside, because I know eventually I'll have to use the bathroom, which will mean leaving her room and being that much closer to that refrigerator.

Funny enough, I don't even like beer much. I've always been a gin man.

When I slide the door gently closed behind me, she sits straight up like someone popping out of a bad dream in a movie. She looks over at me and rubs her eyes.

"Are you okay?" I ask, kneeling beside her on the bed. She groans in response.

"My head feels like it's on fire. I fucking hate tequila," she says, rubbing her temples softly.

"Want me to get you another aspirin?" I ask. I think I trust myself to get to the bathroom and back quick enough. I can take the bottle I brought her last night and fill it in the sink so I don't even have to go into the kitchen.

"No, I can get it. You need anything?" she asks as she slowly gets up out of bed. I settle back against her pillows and shake my head. She stumbles a few times as she heads for her bedroom door. I rub my hand across my face and sigh. Maybe staying over last night was a bad idea. Maybe I should just get dressed and head for Madge and Gale's hotel.

_No, Mellark. That beer was here before you and it'll be there after you leave. You won't begrudge people who can moderate their intake the beer they have in their fridge just because you can't control your damn compulsions. _

It sounds so damn easy in my head.

She's curled back beside me in the bed a minute or two later, her head against my chest and her arms tightly around my waist. Every so often, I feel her plant a soft kiss against my sternum, one of my pectorals, dangerously close to my own nipples before she grins up at me deviously and slips completely under the covers. I feel her hands start to coax my pajama pants down my hips and as soon as they're bunched around my knees, her soft mouth is enveloping me.

I sprawl out a little bit as I feel myself hardening in her mouth and rest my head against the pillows she'd slept on last night. Her tongue swirls deliciously over my tip and I suck in a deep breath to convey to her how good what she's doing feels_. _And then I smell it.

_Cheap beer. Stale peanuts. Aging, peeling felt on the pool tables. Sticky spilled patches of vodka cranberries. And gin. She didn't even drink gin last night, Delly fed her tequila…I smell that too, but where's the gin coming from?_

"Peeta? What's wrong?" Katniss asks suddenly, snapping me back to reality. She's straddling my waist and looking down at me, concern etched on her face.

"What?" I say, momentarily lost.

"You seemed like you were really…you know, enjoying it, and then you just sort of…" Katniss says bashfully, making a little hand gesture that imitates exactly what I had done. The blood that should be rushing to my penis when my girlfriend is felating me first thing in the morning rushes to my cheeks instead.

"Shit, Katniss…I'm so sorry," I stammer. I cover my face with my hands out of sheer mortification. And then I smell it again.

_It's coming out of her pores. You can smell where she was last night because its seeping out of her skin while her body detoxes._

"Did I…is it me?" she murmurs. She weasels off to my side, allowing me to pull my pants back up over my flaccid, pathetic little member and tucks herself into a little ball.

I want so badly to take her into my arms, smooth her hair, kiss her gently, and tell her over and over again that it _wasn't _her_. _That she's perfect, that she is everything I've ever dreamt of and more. But even from where she sits, I can smell the booze on her skin and it's making my head spin in all the wrong ways.

"It's just…I can sort of smell…your body's working out the alcohol from last night and I can smell it on your skin…" I say, wincing the whole time.

She curls up on herself even tighter and looks vaguely like she wants to cry. I put my hand over my face because I feel the same way.

_I'm fucking this up. I'm fucking this up so badly and all I want is a fucking drink to calm me down so I can comfort her._

"Um…I'll go and shower…" she says, crawling off the bed quickly and grabbing the towel hanging from her doorknob. She whips her dress and underwear off quickly, stuffing them deep into the recesses of the hamper by her closet and slips out the door without looking at me again. When I hear the shower start to run, I pound my fist angrily on the mattress next to me to vent my frustration.

_God. Damn it. This is so unfair. So fucking unfair._

I put back on the undershirt I'd worn yesterday and tiptoe slowly into the hallway. She's closed the bathroom door over, but hasn't latched it. I take a chance and tap lightly on the doorframe before pushing it open.

"Katniss?" I call out softly. I hear a muffled noise from behind the brown and gold striped shower curtain and close the door firmly behind me. I lean against the vanity and sigh. "Katniss, I'm really sorry…"

"No, _I'm _sorry," she says from behind the curtain. She sounds so sad. It makes me feel like such an asshole.

"All of this…this really isn't about you. I just want to make sure you understand that," I say. I hear the cap of some bottle pop in there just before the scent of mint and rosemary slowly begins to fill the bathroom. Washing away the lingering scent of alcohol. Calming my nerves.

"I know. I just…I didn't realize how much I had last night. And I guess I didn't realize that it…you know, comes out that way," she says.

"Detoxification is one of the amazing things about the human body, really. Helps some people avoid the truly terrible parts of hangovers, I'm lead to believe," I reply.

She's silent again. The scent of her shampoo or body wash or whatever it is is getting stronger, like she's intentionally using too much. I sigh and rub my hand across my face again. "Katniss, you don't have to become a teetotaler just because you and I are dating. That's not how this has to work. I respect that you can control yourself, and you should have fun and go out with your friends from time to time. You should have beer in your fridge or whatever else you want. You don't have to censor yourself around me, really. But, I need you to understand that…well, there will be some nights when I can't be with you when you've been drinking. It might be because of this, right now, or because the temptation of knowing you have beer in your fridge will be too much for me, to the point where I have to put distance between myself and that temptation before I do something stupid like use again. It's a really unfortunate reality, but that's how it is. I just want you to know that if I have to do that…it's not you. It's really just me. Me and my damn compulsions. It doesn't make me want to be with you any less, I swear. You're incredible. You have to know that."

There's no sounds but the running of the water for a long minute or two. Then the curtain pulls back a little and she pops her face around the side to look at me. "Want to, um…come in here?" she says.

Maybe it's the mint and rosemary soap. Or how I can picture the warm water surging over her breasts. Or that small, sweet smile she's giving me right now, like she's forgiven me for things that I haven't even apologized for yet. But I feel the swell of another erection under my pajama pants as I nod quickly and remove my clothes so they crumple at my feet. When I step in behind her and put my hands lightly on her waist, she repositions us so I'm standing full on under the spray. The droplets massage my shoulders lightly as she nestles her body against mine. Her hands are locked around my waist as soon as mine wrap around her shoulders.

"Do I still…you know, smell bad?" she whispers. I push some wet hair out of her face and shake my head.

"You smell like soap and the woman I'm crazy about," I tell her as I close my mouth around hers. She sighs contentedly into my mouth as our damp bodies rub against one another lightly.

"I won't get like that again if I can help it," she says when the kiss ends. "I'd rather be with you than be messed up and drive you away."

"You're not driving me away. It's just…I'm so far from perfect, Katniss. And these demons, these compulsions of mine…I'm trying so hard to not let them ruin my life anymore, but sometimes they still get in the way. I just need you to understand that that's what you're getting into by dating me. And if you…you know, aren't ready for that…"

I hate that I'm giving her an out. I want her so badly. But maybe this is more than she can handle. Maybe it's more than I want to ask her to handle.

She stands up on her toes and kisses me again. Her tongue probes my mouth quickly and it tastes like toothpaste, not tequila. "I said I'd rather be with _you_, alright? Get that in your head, Mellark. You're not getting rid of me so fast. We'll just take this stuff as it comes, okay? And in the meantime, can we stop apologizing so much? Can we just enjoy your last day here, just enjoy being together?"

Her grey eyes pierce my soul, I swear. I kiss her again, wondering how in the world I got so damn lucky and nod solemnly. "That sounds perf—oh…"

She distracts me completely when her hand closes around me. Instead of that feeling of deflation from before, I feel my cock twitch and harden that much more under her ministrations, my hips unconsciously pivoting into her fist.

"Can I try again?" she whispers against my mouth. I've barely nodded when her body disappears from my embrace and I see through hooded eyes her kneel down in front of me. Her mouth replaces her hand and I lean my side against the tile wall.

"God, Katniss," I murmur, the sound bouncing around the shower stall. The warm water beats against my back as her mouth works me into a lather in the front and my toes start to curl. I reach up and grab ahold of the shower curtain rod, just in case.

Her drenched hair is slapping lightly against her shoulders as she bobs her head back and forth. Her teeth graze the underside of my cock lightly as her hand reaches up and cups me. I hiss out as she hollows out her cheeks a bit more and plunges over me at a near punishing speed. She's relentless. I twine my fingers in her hair to get her to slow down but she refuses silently, scraping her fingernails lightly over my thighs as she continues to bob her head over and over and over…

"Katniss, I'm gonna come," I groan out in warning, but she doesn't stop, doesn't replace her hand with her mouth again. Instead I feel her tongue buzz against me as my core spasms and my release hits the back of her throat. She keeps sucking me diligently until every drop of my orgasm spurts out of me and I'm clutching both the curtain rod and the shower head to keep from collapsing. She trails kisses up my torso as she gets back to her feet and smiles at me mischievously.

"Good morning," she whispers, putting her arms around my waist again and helping me stand up a little straighter. My knees still tremble as I pull her flush against my chest and grin broadly at her.

"Mmm…sure is," I reply.

"I'm gonna treat you so good today that you won't even want to _think _about driving home tonight," she says playfully as she kisses along my jawline. I debate telling her I already don't want to leave her, that the notion fills me with complete dread…

So I drop my fingers to her center and decide to show her instead.


	13. Need You at Home

_Cause if you ain't behind my door_

_Then I ain't got a home anymore_

_Would you write would you call back baby if_

_I wrote you a song_

_I been gone but you're still my lady and_

_I need you at home_

_Lovers come, lovers go_

_Lovers leave me alone_

_She'll come back to me_

-The Lumineers

* * *

The key Katniss inserts into the lock of the house on Twelfth Avenue sticks a little bit in the cylinder, making her have to jiggle it a bit before everything lines up and the door swings open.

"Remind me to add that to the ever-growing list of things Gale and I are going to have to fix up in this money pit when they get here later, 'kay?" she says to me as she picks up the grocery bags she'd deposited at her feet to struggle with the lock and leads me inside the empty house. I nod idly and kick the door closed with my foot as we continue on to the kitchen. It doesn't take long to find spots for the massive amounts of deli meat, cheese, soda, water, and everything else we've picked up at the store for the long day ahead of all of us in the barren fridge. She looks around as we stuff the bags into the pantry below the sink and sighs.

"You okay?" I ask her quickly.

She just shrugs. "I just never would have pictured Gale wanting to live in this house. Madge, yes, but Gale likes more character, you know?"

I nod. The house is a cookie cutter house in a very cookie cutter neighborhood in the middle of a cul-de-sac. But it has a master en suite bathroom that Madge is nuts about and a finished basement for Katniss to set up her stuff from school in for the time being until she's more financially prepared to take on a lease of her own while still giving the newlyweds (and us, if we're being honest) their privacy. I know she's mostly just happy to be out of the bedroom she grew up in at her mother's house, even though it means she'll be spending far fewer nights at my place with me. Those nights have been fun, to say the least, but I know she'll be happier having her own space again.

Besides, being in a new space means new places to…never mind.

I wave off the soda she offers me as we sit and wait for the delivery truck from Home Depot to deliver the new washer and dryer units Madge had ordered in favor of the lukewarm latte we'd picked up at Wander's on the way out of my apartment that morning. She sits on the edge of the countertop and begins to braid her hair idly, still surveying the standard issue kitchen and dining area of the Hawthorne's (and hers, temporarily) new abode. She pulls me in between her thighs when I lean against the counter myself and wraps her arms around my neck.

"It's so quiet in here. Echoey," she says absent-mindedly.

"Empty places usually are. Once the movers drop everything off tomorrow it won't seem so strange, I'm sure," I say, letting my head loll against the curve of her neck. She locks her heels around my torso quickly, pivoting her hips a little closer to the edge and rubbing them against mine deliberately. I shoot her a significant look.

"Did I not exhaust you enough this morning, woman?" I say playfully, reaching around and grabbing a couple of handfuls of her ass through her jeans as I think fondly of waking her up that morning with my face between her thighs. I love doing that.

She grins wickedly before she presses a solid kiss to my mouth. I feel myself reacting to her immediately.

"Katniss, shouldn't we give Gale and Madge the honor of…breaking in the kitchen counters, so to speak?" I say halfheartedly when her lips move over to nibble at my earlobes. She drives me crazy when she does that, the little imp.

"Who says they haven't?" she whispers in my ear. "Besides, they won't be over for _hours_ with that little excursion Madge is forcing him on to that furniture store, and who the hell knows when these delivery guys will actually show…"

I groan involuntarily when her teeth close around my earlobe a little harder this time, but still try not to focus on how hard I am. "Katniss, we shouldn't…"

"I really think we should, actually," she says hotly into my ear, reveling in the groan she coaxes out of me. I break our contact and turn around so my back is facing her and I can pull her onto me in a piggy-back ride.

"Fine, but not in here," I say gruffly.

"Where, then?" she says, clinging to my shoulders when I lift her weight off the counter. I spot the legs of the antique dining room table in the formal dining room and lead us that way. Madge would kill me if she knew what we were about to do on it, but it's currently the only furniture in the house and definitely the only thing low enough to accommodate my stature for this purpose. She never has to find out.

I drop Katniss on the corner of the table and step between her legs again. Our kisses are hungry and loud as they echo against the bare walls. She's fiddling with my belt buckle instantly so she can slide her hand inside my underwear, so I return the favor in kind. It's easier for me, what with the practically non-existent panties she's put on today. Our hands work against each other, making sure we're ready for the other when she pushes back from me so she can shimmy out of her jeans and I can do the same.

"We're gonna get in so much trouble if they come back and catch us, you know," I murmur as I palm the condom I'd slipped into my wallet for such occasions as this one—I have a hard time saying no to Katniss when she gets into these wanton moods.

"Then drop trough quick so they won't," she says coyly as she sits back against the table. I can see she's already ready for me. I'm suddenly so glad I wouldn't let her return the favor for me this morning.

I don't bother sliding my jeans any father down my legs than my calves before I roll the latex down my erection and step back between her thighs. I pump my fingers in and out of her quickly, just to tease her for a second before I thrust my cock inside of her. She falls backwards against the tabletop gracefully and I take a hold of each of her bent knees as I begin to roll my hips into hers.

"God, Peeta…just like that," she moans and palms her breasts through her shirt. I return the sentiment with a quick snap of my pelvis and feel her clutch around me possessively, making her cry out a load "Yes!" that reverberates through the entire house.

"Shhh…don't want to alert the…gah, neighbors, do you?" I say, finding my rhythm inside her quickly. But she's almost completely incapable of being quiet when we're fucking and I can't say I mind all that much—it makes coming inside her that much more gratifying when I can tell just how much she's enjoying it.

"Don't care…fuck, Peeta, harder," she says, gripping around me again with her silky walls as I plunge in and out of her ever faster. Usually I like taking my time with her, but today…today she just feels too good.

It's maybe a minute or two before I feel the heat at the base of my spine building and building, aching to be released, but I always want to make sure she feels it, too. My fingers graze against her clit quickly as I rock into her and she clamps a hand over her mouth to muffle the guttural moans that escape her throat. I work my fingers over her in a frenzy, knowing I'm not going to last much longer, and snap my hips again. She clenches me harder and suddenly I'm spilling into the condom with a loud grunt of satisfaction.

I stay in place, rocking my hips just enough to stimulate her both ways as I continue the work of my fingers; she's almost at the precipice when the doorbell rings and we both swear tersely as we separate and begin to fumble for our clothes. I tuck myself back into my underwear and jeans as soon as I can get the condom tied off, but she's faster and is climbing off the table to answer the door for the delivery guys before I even get my belt buckle refastened. Her face burns hot with being so close to getting off before being interrupted and I resign myself to making it up to her later when we have privacy again.

'Resign' might be a poor choice of words for something I look so forward to.

* * *

"Jesus, is this the last of it?" Finnick complains as we load the last of the cart of house paint into the bed of his truck a few hours later. Under the guise of them finally getting to meet Katniss after almost a month of her being back home and almost three of us dating, I've successfully conned he and Annie into coming over to Gale and Madge's new place that afternoon to paint before the furniture they'd bought that morning gets delivered the next day. Their car had been too full to take the paint with them after they'd bought it before meeting Katniss and me at the house, so I'd offered to go get it for them. It was as good a place as any to meet up with Finnick and Annie.

"Finn, if you didn't want people to take advantage of your man-mobile, you should have gotten something more practical. Preferably something that isn't creating a new hole in the ozone every time you start the damn thing," Annie says with a smirk.

I hold my hands up defensively. "We could have put it in my trunk, but you were the one bragging about the space in the back of this monstrosity…"

"My truck is awesome, bitches, back off," Finnick says and pulls himself up into the driver seat. That's how big this truck is…he has to hoist himself into it. Everyone does. I couldn't help but ask Annie if he's, you know, compensating for something. She swears he isn't. And yet, the floorboards are three feet off the damn ground.

I lead in my car so he and Annie can follow me back to the house. We pull up to Katniss bracing the bottom of a ladder as Gale shimmies up it to do God-only-knows-what to the gutters. I wave Finnick to back his truck into the driveway for easier paint unloading and lead the pair of them over after he kills the engine.

"Wasn't that something the inspector would have done weeks ago?" I say to Katniss as I round her side and kiss her cheek softly.

She rolls her eyes and shrugs. "You still have a lot to learn about Gale, clearly."

"Clearly," I say and turn to my paint companions. "Katniss Everdeen, Finnick Odair and Annie Cresta. And up the ladder is Gale Hawthorne, who I assume will shake your hands when he's not about to fall to his death." The last part I call up loudly at Gale, who waves down at me with a single finger.

"The infamous Katniss!" Finnick coos, ever the Casanova even with Annie standing right next to him. "We meet at last."

"Infamous? What have you been saying about me, Mellark?" Katniss eyes me with a quirked eyebrow.

"Nothing, Finnick's just…well, he's Finnick. It's nice meeting you," Annie says with a well-placed eye roll. All the same, her hand finds Finnick's and his squeezes back tightly.

"Madge going nuts in the kitchen?" I venture a guess and Katniss nods quickly. I kiss her cheek again and lead Finnick and Annie inside. I avert my eyes from the dining room table, now with a drop cloth covering it, lest I blush remembering what Katniss and I had done on it just a couple of hours previous and introduce them to as frantic of a Madge as I expected to find. Sometimes it's not exactly hard to figure out why the woman drank as much as she used to.

"Can we help with anything?" Annie asks tentatively, observing Madge wipe the same spot on the kitchen counter for the fourth time since we entered.

"No, thanks…but Peet, go get Gale and Katniss so we can start painting already, will you? If we don't get started soon we'll—"

"Never be done by the time the furniture and movers come. Yes, darling, I know," Gale says cheekily as he and Katniss silently sneak into the kitchen. Madge throws the Clorox wipe she'd been using at his face as he takes her in his arms and kisses her sweetly. A smile plays at Katniss's lips when she looks at them, then flickers towards me.

_Is she wondering if this is where we're heading? That would be silly, especially after three months. So why is she looking at me like that? And why am I smiling at her like a goon?_

"Right. So, paint. Thanks again for picking everything up, folks," Gale says to Finnick and Annie and me as he begins to lead us through the garage to gather the paint cans from the bed of Finnick's truck. We place the appropriate colors in the correct rooms before finishing off taping off the baseboards and putting the drop cloths over the carpets. Madge blasts some truly terrible pop music from the kitchen, but it makes the work go a little bit faster as the six of us move from room to room, taking turns crouching to do the trim work, climbing the ladder to paint along the ceiling, and rollering the walls. I'm actually surprised by how quickly most of the room's first coats go up, although it surprises me far less how well everyone's getting along. Finnick, largely on Gale's silent gesturing to do so, teasingly drips paint in Katniss's hair, who reciprocates by dipping her hand in the paint well and slapping him on the ass. Annie and Madge discuss the merits of feng shui in different rooms to bring in the right energy flow once the furniture arrives. I stay mostly silent as I watch them, the notion hitting me once again how good of a day this is. How easily people get along with one another sometimes when they're nicely matched. How sober we all are.

Madge sees my far-away look holds up her hands in the all-too-familiar 'One to ten' question. I smile and hold up three of my own digits before dipping the foam brush back in the paint tray and squatting down in front of the far wall of the room. Instead of running it along the trim as expected, I find strokes of abstract faces coming from it. I dip it back in the paint over and over as I try to recreate the expressions on my friend's faces despite having the complete wrong tools for the job. I've finished the criss-crossing blots meant to imitate Katniss's braid when I hear the music stop and feel everyone's eyes on the back of my neck.

"Oh, um…" I say, feeling like I just got caught with my hand in the cookie jar. Gale and Finnick crouch down next to me and study what I've done.

"Huh…that's pretty good, Peet," Gale says.

"My teeth are a little big, though. Hey, Sweetheart there even has a braid!" Finnick says, jeering at Katniss who rolls her eyes. She moves behind me and puts her arms around my neck.

"They're good, Peeta," she tells me thoughtfully.

"They're more like caricatures. Bad ones at that," I say, brushing off the compliment. Absentmindedly I make a few more strokes with my wrist, not even really able to tell that I'm quickly tracing out the bodies of two other people entirely. Until Annie questions me on it.

"Who are they supposed to be?" she asks about the newest paint streaks. In all honesty, I don't really know, I'd just started…

_Cato and Johanna. They're Cato and Johanna. Why are you drawing Cato and Johanna amongst your group of sober friends who aren't slowly but surely dragging you down? Why would you do that?_

I grab one of the rollers and cover the caricatures with a few flicks of my wrist. Finnick groans.

"Oh, come on, I didn't even get a chance to take a picture of mine!" he complains loudly as I get to my feet.

"I'll draw you something better later if you really want, Finn. I'm gonna go smoke real quick though, okay?" I say. Madge nods that she'll join me. Finnick and Annie go back to their brushes like they didn't notice anything, but a quick look back shows me that Gale and Katniss are staring at us intently. Katniss moves to follow us, but Gale holds her back.

_Just as well. This'll be hard enough to explain to Madge._

The question is on me as soon as both of our cigarettes are lit. "Were those supposed to be…"

"Yeah, I guess. I don't know why, though, I just thought I'd keep painting people and all of a sudden…"

"How bad?"

"I told you, a three."

"That was an hour ago. How bad is it _now _that you felt possessed to draw your old drinking buddies on my wall?" Madge says. Her voice doesn't sound angry, which is strange. She's almost eerily calm.

"I dunno…a six, maybe?" I stammer out. Even though I know she means it kindly, I hate being backed into a corner. It makes me too defensive.

"Oh, Peeta…" she says, like I've just told her I have a flask on me.

"What? They used to be big parts of my life, Madge, even if they are assholes. Am I just supposed to forget they ever existed? I don't see them anymore, I probably won't ever see them again, but am I literally supposed to wipe them from my mind? I didn't mean to draw them, you have to know that much…" I tell her, my defensiveness in my voice grating my own nerves.

"I'm not accusing you of…anything, Peet, I promise. I just…if you're thinking about them, I just want to make sure that you aren't thinking of using again, too."

"Does a day ever go by that _you _don't think about using again?" I accuse her.

"More than usual, I mean. You just got your six month chip, which is huge…I just want to make sure that…"

"I'm fine, Madge."

"You don't have to snap at me."

"You don't have to accuse me of things you have no proof over."

She looks really hurt. I feel like an asshole. Probably because I am one. I blow the smoke out of my lungs and head back inside before I say anything else that shows just how much of a jackass I am to the one person I know cares more about my recovery than I do.

We continue moving about the house, touching up spots we missed on the first go-round before reapplying second coats; by the time the sun is down, we're pretty much done. It's only the basement left and Katniss says she wants to keep it as it is for the time being. I don't look at Madge and she ignores that I'm there. If everyone else notices, they don't say anything about it. She and Gale go into the kitchen to make a bunch of sandwiches that we'll have for dinner and Katniss, Finnick, Annie, and I clean off the dining room table so we can sit down to eat on it.

"This is a beautiful table!" Annie says to Madge when she and Gale walk in a few minutes later, running her hand dangerously close to the place where I'd taken Katniss that morning. We avoid one another's glances, but I'm sure we're both flushing furiously. I mean, we'd wiped it down after, but still...

"Oh, thanks. It belonged to my great-grandparents: it was the first piece of furniture that they bought for their first house together years and years ago and I begged my parents to let us have it as a wedding present. It could probably use some refinishing, but I don't want to screw it up," Madge says, tossing a sandwich in front of me without meeting my eyes. _This_ Katniss does notice and moves to take my hand under the table. I squeeze her fingers gently before I start to stuff my face so I don't have to talk about what's going on in my head.

"It's not hard to re-varnish, honey. I'll add it to my and Catnip's To Do list," Gale says to her sweetly. He's got a bottle of something tucked under his arm and for a moment I'm worried it's champagne. When he goes to open it I realize it's actually a bottle of sparkling apple cider. He opens it with a flourish and pours a little bit into the bottom of some plastic champagne flutes set on the table and hands one to each of us. "I'd like to propose a toast, if you please. To my beautiful bride, our wonderful new home, and to our friends new and old—thanks so much for helping us today, all of you."

Madge holds up her glass and clinks it against Gale's and everyone else's in turn. "Yes, thank you. Really, we appreciate you guys so much." When she gets to me her eyes linger on mine an extra second. I offer her a tiny, tight smile of apology. She returns it as if there's nothing to be forgiven, that me snapping at her is so far in the past as to be forgotten.

"It wasn't a bad way to spend an afternoon off, really," Finnick says brightly. "Gave me lots of chances to screen Sweetheart for Peet here. I approve, by the way." His grin my way is cheeky.

"Oh, Finnick, whatever would I have done had you not approved?" Katniss retorts dryly. He responds by kicking her under the table, which makes Annie giggle. It brings a smile to my face. I'm really relieved my friends like each other so much. Whether I realized it or not, this was important. To me, to my recovery, to my continued success in sobriety. I need straight friends, and I need as many of them as possible.

_So don't go alienating the ones you have when you're having a weak moment, Mellark, _I remind myself as I look at Madge again with a much more apologetic look. She smiles again, and though I know she's forgiven me, I'm not entirely sure I deserve it.

We all break away after dinner, with Finnick and Annie heading home to get ready for their shifts in the morning and Gale and Madge going back for their last night in their old apartment. Katniss and I clean up without being asked, once again alone in this empty house like we had been that morning.

"Can I show you something?" she asks after I come back in from the trash out to the can on the side of the house.

"What is it?" I ask, following her obediently to the door that lies in front of the basement stairs. They squeak a little as we go down them and turn the corner. The entire space is open like a studio apartment, aside from the small bathroom behind the staircase. My eyes train instantly on a new setup she must have put together when I had gone to meet Finn and Annie at the hardware store. She's blown up an inflatable double sized mattress and hung Christmas icicle lights around the alcove the bed lies in. There must be a dozen different blankets and pillows on the low bed. It looks inviting, particularly for my tired muscles and the slight ache in my temples. She moves around silently and I see at once she's lighting a few candles that she's placed in different places on the floor.

"I asked Gale if I could stay the night here, get used to the new space a little bit. He said okay, of course…but I was hoping you'd stay with me. Maybe we could, you know…break in my new bedroom a little bit," she says. Her voice is a bit shy, as if we haven't spent a couple of nights a week over the last month wrapped up in one another's embrace as we slept.

"You want me to stay with you?" I ask breathlessly, taking her into my arms and pressing a soft kiss to her mouth.

"Please," she responds before claiming my lips again.

"Always," I tell her as we fall to the bed in a daze, my shitty mood from earlier completely vanquished by the prospect of taking Katniss again and again on this makeshift little bed, completely unburdened by how much our voices might carry.

* * *

**I know I say it after every update, but thank you all for following, favoriting, and reviewing this story. It means so much to me that you're enjoying Recovery!Peeta's journey...a lot of you have certainly gathered that this journey is not always going to be smooth sailing for he and his friends, but do rest assured that I always strive to do right by my characters, even if there's a little angst along the way. Thanks specifically for all the insightful reviews, particularly from the folks who have direct experience with friends and family members in recovery...I hope I continue to portray Peeta's realistically and honestly, and appreciate all your feedback.**

**My beta and I would love to play with you on Tumblr! She's _sohypothetically, _I'm _baronesskika, _and my dedicated ff blog is _alltherightfriendsff. _The latter accepts anonymous asks, so come say hi even if you don't have a Tumblr account!**


	14. Sweetly She Did Sing

My birthday falls on a Saturday this year. Specifically, the Saturday before Father's Day. As such, I fully expect the entire week leading up to it to be terrible.

Madge texts me practically every hour.

**One to ten, Peet.**

**Is work keeping you busy, at least?**

**Come to Hazelle's for dinner tonight? **

**If you won't come for dinner, come hang out with Katniss and me and Gale? We can do a double-date or something.**

**Peeta, did you leave your phone at home?**

**Peeta, are you going to answer, or do I need to call the spa and make sure you're there?**

It finally drives me so crazy that I start sending her my current number on the One to Ten "How Bad Does Peeta Want a Drink" scale after every single session to get the messages to stop. It pleases her enough to leave me alone (mostly) but she still demands I go to Hazelle's house for dinner Thursday night after our regular meeting. We carb-gorge on lasagna and garlic bread, but Hazelle gives me a by on making dessert. She makes an admirable marble cake, which isn't my favorite by any stretch, but the thought behind it is what counts. Katniss isn't there, unfortunately: after weeks of tagging along with me to the coffee shop on Wednesday mornings, Serenity up and offered her a job. And despite not being the most chipper of caffeine addicts, her dwindling bank account balance after her student loan money had dried up and made her accept the position on the spot. Thursday nights are the open mic night at the place, so she works late.

Despite Madge trying to convince me not to, I head back to my apartment alone after dinner that night. My mother wants to take me to breakfast before work on Friday, so I text Katniss that I'm going right to sleep and that I'll see her another night. She's usually exhausted after the late shift on Thursday so she doesn't protest, although I'm sure Madge gave her an earful about leaving me alone. But in her defense, Katniss didn't even know my birthday was coming up until Madge spilled the beans about it the weekend previous. I'd just as soon forget about it altogether.

My dad and I didn't have a lot of traditions. He was too busy running a business and being a single parent to three obnoxious teenage boys to make a big fuss about Easter or Christmas, especially after he left my mother. Thanksgiving and our individual birthdays—those were _our _holidays growing up. My brothers, who were born in April and September respectively, never had to go to school on their birthdays. I was always excused from work on mine. And Dad had different pastries he'd make a fuss over baking with us that day in place of the standard issue birthday cake. Bannock's was angel food cake. Rye's was apple strudel. Mine was the cinnamon rolls I made for Gale and Madge's wedding brunch.

Thinking back on it now, I wish I hadn't made them. I wish I could have hoarded the knowledge of the recipe so it was just _mine. _Mine and Dad's. My memory of him, with flour on his cheeks and in his hair, a huge grin spread across his face putting his crow's feet on full display. But that's ridiculous, of course.

_Peeta, good recipes are meant to be shared with people you love_, Dad would have said. And remembering that just makes me miss him more.

I'm glad that Katniss is at her house instead of in my bed with me; I don't want her to see me cry myself to sleep.

* * *

Brunch with my mother cheers me up enough to get through a work day without breaking down. The front desk lets it slip to my regulars that I have a birthday coming up and most of them end up being extra generous with their tips. As much as I appreciate the extra cash, I wish they hadn't done it for the same reasons I wish Madge hadn't told Katniss: I just want a damn weekend to wallow. It stings enough that it's my first birthday without my dad on the planet. Thanksgiving had been next to unbearable, what with me just getting done with detox by the time the holiday had rolled around. If it hadn't been for Hazelle and Madge watching me like hawks, I would have relapsed right then and there. And by not letting them do the same for my birthday, I'm not trying to find an excuse to drink by any stretch: I just want to be left the hell alone about it.

Because in return for making such a fuss about our birthdays, Ban, Rye, and I always made a big deal about Father's Day for Dad. Even after we were grown and out of the house, the three of us would still go over to his house first thing in the morning and let him make us his slaves for the day. We'd fix leaky pipes, mow the lawn, dust the ceiling fans, re-stain the fence…whatever he needed done, it was our pleasure to do for him. And then we'd treat him to dinner: dining out, making something in, whatever Dad wanted. It was the least we could do for him after making sure we always had new, properly-fitting wrestling uniforms, functional school supplies, and eventually vehicles growing up, no matter what he personally had to sacrifice to do so.

So not only am I going to have to fight every instinct in my system to not get in my car and drive to his house on Sunday morning, I also have to remind myself that I won't be seeing my brothers that day, either. Neither one has spoken to me since…well, "The Rock Bottom Incident", as I've come to wryly call it in my head.

Except I'm far, far more bitter about it these days. I'm glad I end up with deep tissue clients on Friday. I need some sort of outlet to get my aggression out. It's either this, drink, or go back to my apartment with Katniss and fuck her into oblivion. The final option wouldn't be too bad, I suppose. She's not opposed to a little bit of gentle roughness when we have sex. But I'm not sure I can trust myself when I feel like this.

So when she asks me if I want to come over that night to stay, I again tell her I'm tired and just want to go straight to sleep. It's partially true: I am exhausted. But I can't sleep.

* * *

I decide when I wake up on Saturday that I'm just going to play pretend all day. I'm gonna walk like a duck, quack like a duck, swim like a duck…eventually I'll just be a duck, right?

A duck that doesn't miss his father like nobody would believe. A duck who wouldn't down an entire fifth of gin in one swallow if he were offered. A duck that forgot how quickly cigarettes burn down with the windows in his car open, so is currently sporting a decent sized burn in between his index and middle fingers because he felt so numb he didn't notice the cherry of his cancer-stick singeing his fingers before it was too late to stop it from searing his flesh. A duck that doesn't want to burst into tears in front of his coworkers because his friends Finnick and Annie bought him donuts for a birthday morning treat when he doesn't eat donuts on his birthday: he eats cinnamon rolls. A duck who hugged everyone after they sang "Happy Birthday" to him without throwing them against the wall and screaming at them that he hates that he's here when his father isn't.

_Quack._

I see some of my very favorite clients that day, which makes me feel a little bit better. Stacey falls asleep as soon as I dim the lights, but tips me extra with a note on the envelope that I should "Go do something fun tonight for your big 2-6!". Angelina's calm nature zens me out almost as much as my work does for her. Mrs. Eleanor, as I call the 86 year old woman in a wheelchair with bad varicose veins and extremely sensitive muscles, asks me to kneel down for her so she can give me a hug after I wheel her out to the front. She pats my hair and tells me for the twelfth time that I remind her of the boy she almost married before her now-deceased husband stole her heart. I never really know if this is a compliment, though. I'm making my way back to my room to change the linens when I hear a soft laugh. I turn around and find a pair of silvery-grey bemused eyes looking back at me.

_She's sneaky, that Katniss Everdeen, _I think. I look around to make sure Effie doesn't see before I quickly wave her to the back with me. I lead her into my room and close the door behind us.

"What are you doin—" I begin before she cuts me off with a well-placed kiss. I feel myself melt a little against her. Maybe I've been wrong to close her out over the last couple of days. In seven seconds she's managed to make me feel better than I have in _days._

"I can't stay and I know you're only on break…but I need your house keys," she says, holding out her hand expectantly. I blink at her rapidly. "Don't look so befuddled…Finnick told me you when your break was when I texted him this morning."

"You texted Finnick?"

"Well, not exactly—he texted me saying you were in a snit."

"How did Finnick get your number?"

"I gave it to him."

"When?"

"At the painting party. You inviting them over was a hint for me to be friends with your friends, right? Or are you hoarding them for later use or something?"

_I just want to kiss her every day of the rest of my life when she says cheeky things like that. Actually, I want to kiss her every day of the rest of my life anyway. But especially when she's snarky._

"I just didn't realize…and I'm not in a snit," I stammer. She silences me with another kiss.

"You don't have to explain anything to me, Peeta, I promise. But I need the keys to your apartment. Hand 'em over. You have two more sessions after your break, right?"

I fumble for my keys without her asking again. "I take it Finnick told you that, too?"

"Nope, that I got from Annie. So, you'll be done by…"

"Five."

"Excellent. I'll see you in the parking lot then," she says, kissing my cheek this time before moving towards the door.

"Um…what are we doing?" I ask her quietly before she slips into the hallway.

"You'll see. But I promise you'll like it. Don't look so afraid. I'll see you in the parking lot at five," she tells me again and disappears in a flash.

_I'm a duck. I'm not at all confused by why my girlfriend came to my work midway through the day to steal my house keys. I'm not at all concerned by the devious plan she's apparently concocted. _

_Quack._

* * *

I beg Finnick and Annie for whatever information they have about Katniss's plan. They won't budge, except to tell me that it's something for just her and me. That makes me feel a little bit better. I certainly don't want anything ostentatious or obnoxious like a surprise party when I feel like this. But something just me and Katniss I can handle, particularly when being in her presence for all of a minute did more for my mood than any amount of pretending or crying or being pissed off at everything has done all day long. As such, my last two sessions go incredibly smoothly and quickly, since I'm actually excited about something involving my birthday for the first time all week.

When I get back to the break room to wash my hands after my last session, one of the other therapists who'd been on break that hour points at a stack of clothes sitting on top of the refrigerator. A note lies on top of them, saying simply, "Put these on before you come to the parking lot." The clothes are mine, even though I don't recognize them immediately. Joining them, however, are a pair of hiking boots so new they're still in the box. I'm a little baffled, but I decide to just play along. What could it hurt, right?

I close down my room, collect my cash tips and a birthday card from Effie from the front desk, and go to the bathroom to change into the clothes Katniss has provided. The boots fit surprisingly nicely, although the soles are a bit stiffer than the ones on my work shoes. I shove my other clothes into my messenger bag and head to the parking lot, where I find her sitting on the hood of my car grinning like the Cheshire Cat.

"How are the shoes?" she asks, looking straight at my feet. "You didn't have anything like them and I wasn't going to make you ruin your good work shoes for my benefit."

"They're fine…what are we doing that could ruin my work shoes?" I ask. I go to open my trunk to toss my bag inside before I realize that she's twirling my keys on her finger. "And can I have those back, please?"

"You don't need them. Annie's going to drive your car home when she and Finnick leave. You'll ride with me and you'll wear…" she says, fishing around in the pocket of her oversized button-up for a minute before pulling out a small eye mask and dangling it in front of me. "This."

I must gape at her for a second. She pokes me in the side as she slides off her perch and grins up at me. "I'm kidnapping you. Starting right now," she states, snatching the eye mask from me and securing it around my head. She puts my arm around her shoulder and leads me to her car, tossing my messenger bag into her own backseat before helping me into the front. "You don't get carsick, right?"

"No…but, Katniss, I…"

"Relax, Sammy had plenty of food in her dish from this morning. You're making that cat fat, you know, feeding her so much."

"She was fat when I got her…"

"Still. You should cut back her food a little," she says. I hear her start the car and begin to drive off. I chew my fingernail for something to do since I don't want to ask her if I can smoke in her car.

"You're kidnapping me," I say, shaking my head a little. "Do I get to ask where we're going?"

"You can ask. I'm not going to answer, though," she says cheekily. "Music?"

"Sure," I say and lean back a little in the seat. Might as well get comfy, since I have no idea how long this excursion might take. I can tell we're getting on the highway, but that's it. For a second I forget every depressing minute of my week so far before a thought pops into my head.

_Dad would have loved her. He would have called her "the bee's knees" for making you so happy. He would have wanted to know when you and she were going to make him a Grandpa. _

And suddenly, not even my girlfriend can cheer me up. I'm glad I'm wearing the eye mask to hide the tears that prick behind my eyes.

As if she can tell, Katniss reaches over and takes my hand in hers. "It'll be a little bit until we get there. If you're tired you can put the seat back and snooze a little. I'll wake you when we get there."

"Um, okay. Thanks."

She responds by pressing a light kiss to my knuckles and turning the music down a little. I recline the seat and cross my arms over my chest, trying my best to just stop thinking about my dad already and just enjoy where and who I'm with for the time being.

My sleepless night catches up with me, though; I'm asleep a minute later.

* * *

_Dad's tickling the back of my neck to wake me up. He knows I hate when he does that, why does he—_

I open my eyes and see Katniss staring down at me instead. I try to smile for her, but I'm sure it ends up half-hearted at best. I can tell by the look on her face.

"Get up nice and slow, okay. We still have a little bit before the sun goes down, but it's still gonna take us almost an hour," she says, kissing my forehead gently before she gets out of the car. I rub my eyes with my palms and straighten the seat back up. When I get out of the car, I realize we're in the middle of absolute nowhere. All I see are dense trees everywhere I look, save for a little dirt path we must have driven in on. The path continues on past where she's parked her sedan, but even I can tell that her car would never make it without popping a tire or ripping the gas line. The only car that might make it, funny enough, is Finnick's truck.

"Do I get to ask where we are now?" I say, stretching the kink in my neck quickly. She's strapping a large hiking pack to her back before she turns to me and nods.

"Well, Peeta, this is what we call 'nature'. You might have heard of it in science class in high school…it's the thing we're quickly destroying with our single occupancy vehicles and sprawling cities. But I can't imagine you wanted the Al Gore lecture…we're going to take a little hike and stay at the Hawthorne's cabin for the night. Can you help me with some of this stuff, please?" she says as she holds out another pack. It's smaller, but surprisingly heavy when I heave it onto my back.

"The Hawthorne's cabin? I've never heard of anything like that…" I say, letting her tuck a water bottle into the pocket of my cargo shorts.

"Gale doesn't like to tell people they have it. He had buddies in high school that convinced him to throw a party here once and Hazelle almost kicked him out when he 'fessed up about it. But it's the family pride and joy…and it's ours for the night," she says, surging forward and straightening up to kiss my quickly. "Happy birthday, Peeta. Now come on, march."

I see what the hiking boots are for immediately as we set off. The ground is uneven and damp, like it's recently rained. The air is humid and warm, like a mid-June afternoon should be. I drink the water from the bottle she put in my cargo shorts a little too fast before realizing maybe it's supposed to last. She assures me it wasn't, so I finish off the rest and stick it in the top of my backpack.

As we walk, she points out different landmarks on the trail. The spot where Vick turned his ankle so badly Gale had to carry him the rest of the way. The tree under which Posy got stung by wasps in so many spots she almost went into anaphylaxis. The copse where she caught Gale kissing Madge the first time they brought her out here.

"That was the moment I knew," she says.

"Knew what?" I ask.

"That they were meant to be. I remember feeling so possessive, because he's my best friend. I knew we'd never be anything more because we're too similar: we'd self-destruct if we ever tried to be more than friends. But he was sort of my backup person. I knew I'd lost that when I saw the way they kissed. I knew how crazy in love they were."

She sighs and presses on like she didn't just tell me she used to have feelings for Gale. I wonder for a second if I got stung by a wasp for how much it twinges. But she grabs my hand and holds it tightly. And I forget instantly, because Gale and Madge are married now, have a life and a house, and maybe will have a baby by the time they hit their first anniversary. And in the meantime, _I_ have Katniss.

The cabin comes into view just as the sun begins to wane. It's small and rustic, with ivy growing on the sides and covering the windows a little. It might look abandoned to anyone who happened by it, but as soon as she fits the key into the lock, I know it will be well maintained inside.

We move through it quickly, throwing the windows open to let it air out. She has to climb up on the kitchen counter to get the galley window there opened, giving me a little hint of her ass through her cut off denim shorts when she does. She explains how Gale's father built the basic structure before he passed away, but it didn't have running water or electricity for years. She, Gale, Rory, and Vick spent the summer after Gale graduated from high school bringing in supplies on ATVs so they could finish it. Building a rainwater receptacle and snaking plumbing pipes in. Searching warehouses for old generators that could provide power, before finally finding one and having to pay double what it cost in shipping to get the place to deliver it.

"The only thing we never were able to do was dig the trench for a full septic system. So personal business is done outdoors. Hope that'll be okay," she says as she unloads canned goods from her own backpack on a rickety kitchen table. I don't care in the slightest. I'm sweaty from the hike and tired from not sleeping much, but I can breathe without it hurting quite so much for the first time all day. I wish I knew exactly how to explain to her what a blessing that is. What a blessing she is.

"Come on, last thing to show you," she tells me, tugging on my hand and leading me back out the door. We walk only a few hundred paces when I see it: a small but sparkling lake just behind a copse of trees. It looks like something out of the Garden of Eden.

"I thought we'd go for a swim before supper," she says as she begins to unbutton her shirt.

"Did you bring my swimming trunks, too?" I ask.

"It's very secluded, Peeta. We don't need 'em," she says with a wink. She pulls off her own boots and lets the rest of her clothes crumple at her feet. Her lithe, naked body disappears under the water before I have a moment to appreciate its beauty.

"The water is perfect, Peet, come on!" she calls out, floating on her back and giving me a perfect view of her breasts and the patch of hair between her legs. I strip myself of my own clothes and jump in after her. I'm not much of a swimmer, but I dog paddle my way out to her and gather her in my arms.

"Told you the water's perfect," she says, wrapping her arms around my neck and letting me spin her slowly in the water. I catch myself staring at her just a second before she does. "What's that look for?"

_Tell her you love her, you idiot. Just tell her! Who cares if it's only been a few months! You've known your entire life!_

"It's just...you're amazing, Katniss. I was so prepared for this to be the shittiest birthday, but you're so determined to prove me wrong..." I murmur.

She kisses me softly and nods. "I know it. I know you need to be sad—you should be sad—but I don't want you to be sad forever. Remember...I know how it is to lose a dad."

I nod slowly. She does know. Gale knows. I'm not the only person in the world who's lost their father. It just feels like that sometimes.

Although usually a situation like floating naked in a warm lake with a naked Katniss in my arms would lead to a near instant erection on my part, nothing sexual comes from this moment of intimacy. We kiss, but mostly we're silent. She plays with my damp hair and I let out of her braid so I can do the same. We watch the sun fade behind the trees.

"This is your favorite color, right? This orange?" She asks.

"Yes," I respond. I pull on the chain around my neck and separate out the chips until my fingers close around the 3 month one. "And this is yours."

"It is," she replies. For a minute we're each lost in our own heads and the other's gaze. Finally she runs her fingers down the side of my face and smiles at me. "We should go inside before the mosquitos decide we're a good dinner."

"Speaking of..." I inquire, remembering the canned goods she's pulled out if her pack.

"You know I'm not much of a cook, Mellark. But I can heat up chili over a fire like nobody's business," she tells me with a smirk.

* * *

Dinner isn't anything to write home about. Canned chili and peaches. But she's also brought the makings for s'mores. We roast the marshmallows over the fire in the hearth in the living room. The cabin is mostly open, with two small bedrooms with bunk beds in them and a loft above the living area. She spreads out pillows and blankets in front of the fireplace because it's surprising cool here once the sun goes down.

I watch her take a massive bite of her s'more and see the gooey insides of the marshmallow run out the side and end up across her finger. She licks them clean quickly. I know I'm still not myself when I don't have it in me to make a dirty joke about the scenario. I lay back instead, running my hand idly across the small of her back and stare at the flames. After a minute she lies down next to me and captures my gaze.

"Can I ask you something personal, and if it's none of my business you can tell me to fuck off?" she says. I shrug in response. "How...um, how did your dad pass away?"

I sigh heavily. No, this isn't something I want to talk about. But I'm just vulnerable enough to open my mouth. "He had a stroke. He was at home alone when it happened. Couldn't get to the phone in the stupor of it all. His neighbors found him after coming over go figure out why Sammy was yowling and crying. Thought he was torturing the thing or something. They called an ambulance, but it was too late. He was already gone." The words seem so hollow and foreign on my lips. I realize it's the first time I've said them aloud to anyone else. My brothers and I didn't say anything about it at the funeral or when we were going through his things to figure out what we wanted to keep and what would get donated to the thrift store. Just about everything went. A small, flat box hidden under my dresser at home...that's all I kept. Some photos, a few of his recipe books, one of his shirts and neckties, a pair of his shoes. That's all I wanted, and I haven't looked at any of it since I put it there.

"Oh," she says.

"I'm grateful, you know. The doctors said it was quick. Probably just a little pain, and then he collapsed. He was probably already asleep when his heart stopped," I continue. My voice doesn't sound like my own. I feel the crushing weight of sadness on my chest. Tears behind my eyes, but I blink them back and swallow hard. Katniss sits up and rearranges us so my head is in her lap. She runs her fingers through my hair, trying to imitate the scalp massage I'd given her once. It feels remarkably good. It grounds me to where I am. I rub the chips on my necklace idly.

We're quiet for a long time. She keeps opening her mouth as if she wants to say something. Finally she does. "You should be sad about it, baby. You should cry and be angry and anything else you want. It's okay to miss him. I...I won't force you, though. This is all you. All on your time. You don't have to do anything or say anything else you don't want to right now. I'm just glad you're here with me."

I nod. I swallow hard again. Her fingers feel so good. So tender and warm. The little circles she's drawing with her fingertips knead away the headache I've been trying to ignore all day. The silence is comfortable.

Then, out of nowhere, I start to sob. I put my hands over my eyes so she doesn't notice at first, but when she does she kisses my forehead softly. Whispers, "I can leave you alone if you need it."

"S-stay," I choke out. She moves again so she's behind me, her arms wrapped around my chest, supporting my head, her legs tangled in with mine. And I weep, quietly at first. Then louder and louder until my entire body shakes as the sobs ebb through me. She holds me like we'd break if we let go. I know I would break if she did. I don't want her to see me like this, sad and pathetic and crying like I have an endless supply of tears, but I do it anyway.

"I m-miss him so m-much, Kat..." I choke out.

"I know, baby. I know. I'm here," she whispers into my ear.

I don't know when I stop crying and fall asleep. It could be minutes or hours by the time she shakes me lightly to rouse me.

"C'mon...I made up the pullout couch. Much better than the floor," she tells me and helps me to my feet. She effortlessly rids me of my shirt and cargo shorts and tucks me under a sea of blankets. She prods the fire a little before climbing in with me and wrapping her arms around me again. In a sleepy daze, I think again about how lucky I am. How wonderful she is. _I love you, Katniss. I love you so much. Please don't leave me. Please don't ever go away again,_ I think. And then sleep grabs me.

* * *

I wake up alone. The bed is cool next to me. I stretch slowly and pull my phone out to check the time. The battery is almost drained from trying to search for a signal that isn't there, so I turn it off to save what's left. It's 10:30. The sun is bright outside the windows. She's nowhere in the cabin, but I know she's close by.

I dress in the second set of clothes she brought for me and set outside. A warm breeze hits my face and I listen to the birds sing in the trees for a minute. Then I hear her.

_Come in, come in my father dear_

_And spend this hour with me_

_For I have a meal, a very fine meal_

_I've fixed it up for thee, thee _

_I've fixed it up for thee..._

I haven't heard Katniss sing since we were children. I remember the first time I heard her sing in music class in fifth grade, remember the way my heart seemed to swell in my chest as I listened to her take the solo part of the song we were performing. I think—no, I know that was when I started to love her.

…_She got up her arrow and bow_

_Her arrow and her string_

_And she went down to the forest deep_

_And sweetly she did sing, sing _

_And sweetly she did sing_

_Up spoke-a spoke-a mockingjay _

_Up from the willow tree_

_Saying "You had a father in the mines_

_Who's gone this day from thee, thee_

_Who's gone this day from thee"…_

I remember suddenly how Katniss's father died. An explosion at the plant where he worked. A little spark that led to an inferno that claimed the lives of 49 workers. The place closed down for good after that, the money funneled straight into the pockets of the families left behind.

A stroke has to be a more merciful way to go than smoke inhalation.

…_She went home to her house that night_

_That house so cold and mean_

_And she held her sister close to her side_

_And never more did sing, sing_

_And never more did sing_

But there she is. She is singing. So beautifully. My heart swells like it did as a child. I love her. I love her so much it hurts.

"Katniss?" I call out. She spins in place and smiles at me.

"I tried not to wake you. You sleep like the dead," she says. I realize she actually has a bow and arrow in her hand. It's made of mahogany or something...it's beautiful. Exactly the sort of thing she would have. It almost seems like a natural extension of her body.

"I...well, it was a long day," I tell her as I try to put the image of me crying in front of her into the recesses of my brain. She sets the bow down and gathers me in her arms. She holds me for a long time, only letting go when I start to pull away.

"Can I show you something?" she asks, running her hand along my hairline. I nod quickly. She picks the bow back up and places it in my hands. "See that target there? I'm going to show you how to hit it."

"Yeah right," I say skeptically.

"It's not as hard as it looks. It's not as easy as it looks, either, but I'm a good teacher. Not as impatient and territorial as Gale. C'mon," she says. She shows me how to hold it aloft with my shoulders soft and my knees slightly bent. The pull of the string is tight and difficult to control, but she assures me that it's totally possible. She helps me nock the arrow and positions my fingers correctly. She guides my arm as I pull it back and taps my elbow when she's happy enough with my grasp to let the arrow fly. It thwips through the air and lands with a soft thunk in the trunk of the tree, a good two feet below the target.

"Not bad," she says.

"I missed it, Katniss," I retort.

"The target, yes. But your posture is good. We'll just adjust you a little more," she says. She holds out another arrow and guides my arms again. Her breath is warm on my neck as she helps me string arrow after arrow, letting them fly quickly before one finally hits the lower quadrant of the target. She beams at me when I put the bow down.

"Don't tell Gale...but if you practiced, you could probably be better than him," she says slyly. I laugh, knowing Gale still favors a bow over a shotgun when he goes deer hunting with Rory and Vick in the fall. I've had the venison steaks that prove her statement wrong.

"Let me see how you do it," I tell her and stand back as she nocks one of the last arrows in the quiver. It flies true and hits the bullseye straight on. Again and again, in fact, until the quiver is empty. "Wow," I breathe out.

She sets the bow against a rock and goes over to the tree to pull the arrows out of it. The sunlight filters through the trees above us and makes her skin glitter. She's so beautiful.

"What?" she asks when she catches me staring again. I stride forward quickly and kiss her in response. Her lips tremble under mine for a second before she drops the arrows at our feet and pulls me to her. We back up so she's pressed against the tree, my arms on either side of her holding her right where I want her. It takes a minute, maybe a tiny bit longer, before our tongues start to work together and her hands begin to fumble with the hem of my shirt. I respond by starting to pull her back in the direction of the house, but she stops me by hooking her leg around my hips and pulling me closer to her.

"I've got it covered," she says hotly into my ear before nipping at my earlobe. In response I roll my hips against hers so she understands what that voice does to me. She squeals a little when my quickly growing erection brushes against her center.

We're happy to take things a little slower. My shirt is tossed to the side first before I begin popping the buttons one by one of the striped flannel she's wearing, leaving it open and on her shoulders to protect the skin of her back from the scratchy, moss-covered bark. I separate it roughly so I can cup her breasts through the material of her bra, easing them out of the low cut cups so I can tweak her nipples with my fingers. She responds by grabbing a palmful of my ass through my shorts and squeezing her strung up leg harder, rubbing our hips together that much more intensely. I pull my mouth away from hers so I can trail kisses along her jaw and her neck before I start nipping lightly at the skin on top of her collarbones, reveling in the catch in her throat that still, after months of being with her, drives me so wild.

My mind floats every briefly back to the night before—how safe I felt in her arms, the soft kisses against the patch of skin behind my ears as she whispered sweet-nothings into them, the tender way she'd wipe away one of my tears with her fingertips as I drifted off to sleep in her embrace. I know I don't need to do anything for her—she'd done all of that because she cares for me, because she wanted me to feel better when I felt so low, so sad, so not myself—but I _want _to make her feel good. Remind her once again how crazy I am about her. I nudge her leg off of my hips so I can drop to my knees in front of her, and make quick work of the button and fly of her cut-offs. They pool around her ankles with one good yank along with her underwear. I help one of her feet out of the material so I can prop her knee up on my shoulder and surge my face between her thighs.

"Oh, God," she moans as soon as my tongue separates her folds so I can find the hooded cleft and set to work on it. The fingers of one of her hands twines in my hair while the other searches for something, anything above her head to cling to for balance. I hold her hips firmly in my hands to help steady her, letting my tongue do all the work, going back and forth between probing shallowly at her entrance and sucking the little nub of her clit into my mouth. My tongue starts to go numb at the very tip as I continue my efforts, but I don't care. I want her to come hard, and in the meantime I want her to enjoy every delicious moment of pleasure as it courses through her.

I thrash my tongue against her over and over, delighting in the bucking of her hips against my face, the strangled cries she makes as she tries to hold back the orgasm we both know is growing and growing. She can't hold out forever, though, and when she comes, she grips my hair so hard in her hand I hiss against her and clamp my teeth a little harder around her swollen mound than I intended to. Apparently she likes that, because she almost collapses as a second orgasm surges through her immediately after the first one.

She leans against the tree panting as I maneuver her knee off my shoulder and pepper her abdomen, hips bones, and the top of her thighs with kisses. I'm so hard that I'm a little amazed I haven't ripped the seam of my shorts, but I take my time kissing my way back up her body to give her chest a chance to stop heaving, her knees a moment to stop shaking under the tremendous weight of holding up a body so sated. Her arms lock around my neck when I make it back to my full height and she kisses me slowly, moaning beautifully into my mouth.

"Peeta…my back pocket," she breathes out between kisses. I bend at the waist quickly to burrow my hand into the back pocket of the discarded shorts, grinning when my fingers close around a bit of foil. I stand up so fast the blood that isn't rushing to my groin goes to my head and Katniss has to help me with the zipper of my shorts while it passes. They're around my own ankles a moment later and her slim fingers roll the rubber around my cock before she pivots her hips towards mine again. I pick up the opposite leg from the one that had rested on my shoulder before and hike it up high so I can position myself at her entrance and slide in slowly. Her fingernails begin to claw at the skin of my shoulders as I roll my hips into hers, thrusting inside her shallowly.

"More," she mewls. "I want all of you."

I pivot my hips a little bit, but the angle is funny from the uneven ground and her wobbly knees. I can sheath myself inside her halfway, but she groans out "More, more, please" so many times I contemplate taking her back to the cabin after all. An idea strikes me after just a second more; I pull out of her, kissing her to soothe the blatant pout on her face and grasp her hips tightly. I nudge one of them forward and spin her around so her ass is sticking out towards me. I adjust my grip on her and nudge my knee between her thighs to get her to spread for me. When she does, I surge my cock back inside her with a snap of my hips and we both cry out in ecstasy.

"You feel so good, Katniss," I hiss into her ear as I work my pelvis into a steady rhythm against hers. I see her profile as her face begins to contort in pleasure while her palms fumble wildly against the trunk of the tree, now in front of her, for something to grip onto. I keep my left hand on her hip and use the right to pin her hand flat against the bark. It's rough under my fingertips but she doesn't try to shirk it away—in fact, this tiny gesture of dominance makes her keen and thrust her hips back against me wildly. I didn't think it was possible to be any farther inside her. I was wrong. "You feel so fucking good, baby…fuck," I say again, my eyes rolling back into my head.

"Fuck, Peeta…you're gonna make me come again…oh, God!" she cries out before she buries her face into the crook of her arm. I move my hand on her hip around to the front of her, finding her clit quickly and rubbing my middle finger over it mercilessly. I grip her hips tightly again when she falls over the edge for a second time, slumping against the tree like she's boneless as I drive into her over and over until finally, stars burst behind my eyes and I come hard inside her.

We each grip the tree trunk tightly, willing our legs and spines to work properly again so we can straighten up and get dressed. Katniss somehow recovers first and slips off to the side to let me brace myself as I pant heavily into my forearm. She's pulling my shorts up my legs a minute later, sliding the condom off me carefully before tying it off and holding it delicately with her thumb and forefinger.

"You okay?" she asks quietly after she coaxes my shirt back over my shoulders. I push off against the bark so I can gather her into my arms and hold her there tightly.

"Wonderful," I assure her. "We didn't scratch your hands up too badly, did we?"

"Nah, they're fine. Just a little shaky after…all that.." she says with a goofy grin on her face. She bends over to collect the arrows she'd discarded at our feet and somehow still has an arm to offer me as we head back towards the cabin. She re-sheaths the arrows into the quiver before she runs back into the house quickly to properly dispose of the other item. I sink down on the rock she'd propped her bow against and run my own shaky hands over my face quickly. The beauty of the place is making me feel momentarily overwhelmed, although I'm not positive I'd feel quite the same if I weren't here with Katniss.

She is back at my side a moment later. She's refilled our water bottles and is holding mine out to me while drinking deeply out of her own. I take it gratefully and finish half the bottle in a single swallow, wiping the back of my hand across my mouth when I finish. She drops into my lap and I wrap my arms around her waist tightly as I bury my face into my hair.

"Do we have to leave?" I murmur to her.

She laughs softly. "I always feel the same way when I come here. If I ever come into an obscene amount of money, I'm buying it from Gale and moving here and never coming back to civilization again."

"Mmm…that would be nice. So long as I can come visit every so often," I say, nuzzling her neck.

"You'd be my kept man, you realize. All you'd have to do is give me foot rubs and bake me cookies and cook the rabbits I bring in when I hunt," she says, her voice playful but I swear I sense something more serious in her tone.

"You can keep me anywhere you want me," I murmur quietly. I breathe in a deep breath of her. She smells like sweat and dirt and just the smallest bit still of her minty shampoo. It slays me.

"Peeta?" she begins after a minute of sitting quietly in my arms.

"Katniss?" I respond cheekily. She turns her face towards mine, and she looks so serious I wish I hadn't teased her. "What's wrong, baby?" I ask quietly.

"Nothing's wrong, I just…you know I heard you last night, right?"

I blink rapidly. I know she heard me crying…she'd comforted me. Told me I'd be okay. Reminded me again and again that she was right there.

"I mean when you were falling asleep…on the pull-out? You said it so quietly I'm not sure you meant to say it at all, but I heard you…you told me you loved me."

_Fuck. Fuck. FUCK. I said that OUT LOUD?!_

"Katniss, I…I…" I stammer quickly, trying to figure out what the hell I'm supposed to say next. She steers herself off my lap and kneels in front of me. My cheeks burn bright against her palm as she steers my face towards her. Her expression is serious, but softens a little as our gazes lock.

"Did you, um, mean it? Did you mean to say it? Do you…do you really think you love me?" she whispers quietly.

I close my fingers over hers and grip them tightly. I could ruin everything right now in one quick moment, but I don't know what else to do other than tell the truth. "I…don't _think _it, Katniss. I know it."

I don't know exactly what I expect. Her to leap into my arms and kiss me over and over, saying again and again that she loves me too, and always has? Too romantic comedy. Her to storm off and leave me to fend for myself in the wilderness? Nah, she's certainly not that heartless.

Instead, she sits up a little higher on her heels and kisses me very, very softly. She almost looks sad. I don't want her to look sad at a moment like this. My stomach sinks.

"Peeta…you're so incredible. And I know I'm so lucky to have you. Is there any way you won't be too disappointed if I don't say it yet?" she says.

"You…you don't have to say it at all if you're not…you know, there yet," I tell her. My gut feels a little less turned inside out.

"I'm getting there, I think. You're just so…so wonderful. I just don't have the same way with words you do, you know? But I want you—I need you in my life. I don't want to hurt you…"

"I understand, Katniss. I'm sorry I…I guess I was more tired than I thought last night," I tell her. "It's okay…really."

She kisses me again, a little firmer this time. Her lips are warm and steady. My heart is full. I'm amazed with how okay I am with putting myself out there when she couldn't do the same. In this moment, I _don't _miss my father so badly I could curl into a ball and weep for hours anymore. In this moment, all I can think about is what he might say if he could see me now, see everything I've done for the last seven months.

I hope he'd be proud. I think he would be.

* * *

**A/N: I hope no one minds me getting a little meta by including a THG soundtrack song in this chapter...it just seemed too apt and I couldn't help myself! **

**I do want to let everyone know that there will be an update this coming Tuesday, and then this story will go on a VERY short break...I'm getting married to my very own sensitive, blue-eyed baker on Saturday the 18th and I imagine it's understandable that I'll be a little preoccupied that day! That will (hopefully) be the only update I have to skip because of how far ahead I am in the writing of this story, which will mean AtRF will be back in action on the 21st, or at the absolute latest, the following Saturday (the 25th). Either way, that first update back will be a double update to make the wait worth it!**

**Since I can queue posts on Tumblr (FF and Ao3 really need to get with that technology!), I'll be posting some pictures, music, and snippets on the dedicated blog for this story (alltherightfriendsff) during the absentee time, so stop by there in the next week to enjoy some new stuff! Thanks as ALWAYS for reading and being so fantastic with reviews...it means the world to me!**

**Have a great rest of your weekend!**


	15. The Sun Shining Through

**This chapter is for _sohypothetically, so-amazing-here, _and _megsonfire. _Love you ladies more'n my luggage.**

* * *

Gale, Madge, and Katniss love Annie and Finnick. It's not too long before the six of us are all hanging out together. We have barbecues at Gale and Madge's place, find new hole-in-the-wall eateries, play games until the wee hours of the morning on Saturday nights—anything one of us likes, the others can usually be persuaded to join in. Within reason, of course...none of the four of them drink when Madge and I are present, which I'm grateful for.

I suppose I thought that by the time I was almost eight months clean, the temptation to drink would lessen and lessen. But it hasn't...in fact, more and more often when Madge asks me my one to ten number, I'm consistently over a five. Maybe it has to do with my dad's anniversary coming up. The grief I still haven't completely dealt with. Or maybe it's that Madge has finally convinced me that Steps Eight and Nine (making lists of and then amends to those I've wronged) are the next logical step in my recovery.

She's not wrong, of course, and she certainly isn't trying to push me towards something I'm not ready for. But the idea of having a heart-to-heart with Rye about what I did with his then-girlfriend haunts me. I don't know if he'll ever truly forgive me. Even if he does, I know things will never be the same between us. I miss him—we weren't the closest, but he was still my brother. His and Bannock's absences in my life are glaring, particularly now that Dad is gone and Mom is busy with her own life, recovery, and new partner.

Or maybe I'm really just worried that he won't be able to forgive me when I still haven't entirely forgiven myself.

I'm not sure if it helps or hurts that Gale and Finnick treat me so much like their brother. We tussle when our conversations get heated, never enough to actually hurt one another, of course, but enough to burn off the testosterone in our blood streams. As my relationship with Katniss progresses, they try to give me sagely advice on how best to handle loving a woman who can't quite say it back yet. And when I roll my eyes at Finnick's insistence that I should just heat things up in the bedroom, or Gale's that Katniss is the type of girl that needs to be slowly wooed, they tease me mercilessly, as if I'm too innocent for my own good. It's all in good fun. It's good to have them. But I find myself thinking sometimes that Gale's dry humor is similar to Ban's. That Finnick and Rye are both ladies men. Then I remember they might call me "brother" from time to time, but we aren't blood. Not that I've spoken to my blood for almost a year.

"Peet!" Finnick calls out to me one Thursday in the break room. "There's a plot afoot...you want in on it?"

"Should I be frightened?" I ask, running my hands under the cool water in the sink.

"Maybe a little. Gale wants to pester Katniss at the coffee house tonight. Annie's in...just need you to make sure Madgie gets there, too," he says.

"We've got our thing at 5:30..." I say.

"Yeah, but that doesn't take more than an hour, right?" he says.

"No, not really...yeah, let's do it. I'll make sure she gets there," I say, toweling off my hands quickly.

"Excellent. Gale has this brilliant idea to make Kat get up and sing for everyone. I didn't know your girl had a set of pipes on her," he says, clapping me on the shoulder and snagging the water bottle I'm reaching for. He tosses it up in the air to make me catch it. I roll my eyes at him, but the catch is easy.

"She's a gorgeous singer, actually. But…I don't know, Finn, she's pretty shy about that stuff. She'll probably get pissed off at the pair of you something wicked," I respond.

"Aw, she'll know it's all in good fun. I don't torment people I don't like, you know that," Finnick says with a groan. "Don't be a drag, Peet. Have some fun for once, eh?"

I've heard these sorts of things come out of much different, much drunker mouths. And right before something really stupid happened, too, like keying the car belonging to the person at the bar's attention or phone number we hadn't been able to grab. Or jumping into the community pool of the apartment complex we were cutting through on the way home right before vomiting in the shallow end. Things with actual consequences that were always narrowly avoided by being quick on our feet.

I shake myself when Finnick starts up again. _Finnick and Annie aren't Cato and Jo. Stop comparing them._

"You listening, Peet? Come on, man, Gale and I have it all worked out. Just get yourself and Madgie there and we'll make sure we've got the best seat in the house," Finnick says with a sly wink.

"Fine, but if she kicks your ass, don't expect me to come to your rescue," I tell him finally.

As I change the linens out in my room, I debate texting Katniss to give her a heads up. But I can't deny I've been wanting to hear her sing again. Something I was meant to hear, perhaps. Or maybe because when I heard it that time at the cabin, it took me back to falling for her the first time around. It was nice, remembering being an innocent, dewy-eyed 12 year old, as opposed to a 26 year old with AA chips around his throat, even if it was just for a second.

_I hope their plan works_, I decide. _Who could it really hurt, after all?_

* * *

Serenity is sitting at the outdoor table in front of the coffee house rolling a cigarette when Madge and I pull up. She waves me over and gives me a hug when we settle into the seats next to her. I introduce she and Madge quickly, and take the freshly rolled stick from her when she offers it.

"Just can't stay away, huh?" I tease her after I light up.

"No, fucking Carl called out, and Mika was desperate for anyone else to help Kat close. You know me...ever the responsible one. At least I don't have to open in the morning," she says, lighting her own.

"You are so whipped, Ren," I tell her.

"Yeah, yeah...so what's this I see with Kat's name on the sign-up sheet? Your friend with the red hair made me promise not to tell her about it, as if she's not going to figure it out when I introduce her," Serenity responds. Out if the corner of my eye, I see Madge's eyebrows raise quickly.

"Katniss? Sing in front of human beings? Not likely. Unless...ah hell. She's gonna kill my husband," Madge says with a sigh. I can't help but laugh a little.

"Oooh, tall, dark, and dreamy is your man, huh? Nice catch with that one!" Serenity says playfully, making Madge laugh.

"I think so," Madge responds.

"Does it say what she's supposed to be singing, Ren?" I ask because I am genuinely curious. Maybe it'll be that song she sang in the woods. I'd like to hear it again.

"Nope. And unless she has a guitar hidden in that obnoxious orange backpack of hers, she'll be doing it acapella. Which might be fun. All I know is I'm supposed to turn out as many lights as fire code will allow before I introduce her," Serenity explains.

_Ah. Part of the cunning plan I heard about earlier, I imagine. _

We all stub our smokes out a minute later and head inside as some guy with a harmonica takes a bow to some modest applause. I spy Katniss behind the counter, refilling the coffee pots before turning back to the espresso bar to start a drink. She smiles at me broadly, like I'm the highlight of her evening. Maybe I am. She's certainly the bright spot in mine most days.

"Your usual, Peet?" Serenity asks, waiting for my nod before turning to Madge, who orders something rich and chocolatey. We wait at the far end once the previous patron shuffles off to their seat and Katniss hops up and leans over the tall counter to kiss me quickly, pointedly ignoring Serenity's chants to "get a room already".

"I'd almost forgotten what you look like, you know," she says with a wink. I bite the inside of my cheek defensively. Admittedly it's been a while since I saw her outside our group gatherings. About a week, to be exact. It's strange: it doesn't feel like it's been that long until I actually think about it.

"Yeah, well, biological inconveniences and all," I say, trying to sound lighthearted.

Madge rolls her eyes. "Jesus, you're as bad as Gale. Periods happen, Peeta," she scoffs.

"Thank you!" Katniss replies, stirring the brown sugar for my latte into the pulled espresso. She casts a glare over at the table our friends sit at. "Finn and Gale seem more devious than usual tonight."

"Do they?" Madge says innocently.

"They keep looking at me and snickering, like they've never seen me while I'm working before. It's creeping me out. If Gale has some plan he's trying to spring on me, tell him I'll put a spider in his bed," she replies, pouring the milk into each of our drinks and sliding them to us.

"Hey, I sleep in that bed, too!" Madge objects.

"Still stands," Katniss says haughtily.

"I'm sure it's just them being goofballs, baby. Come sit with us when the orders die down a little?" I ask, leaning over again to steal another kiss from her. She nods us off and starts prepping for another round of drinks. Madge and I take seats next to our three friends. "Guys, she knows something's up. Be a little less obvious, will ya?"

"You better not have squealed, Mellark!" Gale says, pulling Madge into his lap.

"Snitches and stitches, you know," Finnick says ominously.

"Oh, whatever, Finn. Peeta bests you every time you try to start anything," Annie says coyly. Finnick almost looks hurt for a second before remembering that she's exactly right.

"Four years of wrestling, Odair. Two state titles. You have no chance," I say with a smirk.

"Hey, that was a long time ago…I could beef up and give you a run for it if I wanted," Finnick says defiantly.

_Yeah, you probably could, what with you skipping over the five-year-alcohol-addiction phase. _

_Fuck, Mellark, knock it off._

By in large, the coffee shop weeds out the truly terrible performers via private auditions with Mika or Serenity, so the open mic night is always enjoyable. Lots of guitarists, one poet, a guy with bongos. I'm definitely not capable of listening to bongos sober. I sneak outside alone at that point for a cigarette and find myself focusing on the feel of the humid air against my skin. It'd be the perfect night to sit by my window with a very well chilled glass of gin. The leftover ice in my latte forms condensation as it sits on the table beside me and I watch intently as the water droplets drip down the glass. Why this fascinates me so, I'm not sure.

I nearly jump out of my skin when Katniss drops into my lap a moment later. She looks genuinely apologetic when she can tell she's startled me, though.

"Off in my own world, sorry. Finally got a break, huh?" I tell her.

"Yeah, people stop wanting espresso around nine. Ren can handle the stragglers. Besides, you've been making bedroom eyes at me all night long, so I figured I'd come over and see what those are all about," she says with a smirk.

"Well, I have been a little hard up for the last week," I say, running my hand over her thigh. Despite the warmth of the evening, the skin not covered by her khaki shorts pebbles under my hand. I grin deviously.

"Just because we aren't having sex for a week doesn't mean you have to stay at your place every night," she says. I bite the corner of my lip in response. "Does that…is it what I said when we were out in the woods?"

"No," I tell her as I use the end of my last cigarette to light my next. "I just…I've been kinda out of it lately. Haven't wanted to bring you down, I guess."

She nods slowly, but curls her body a little closer to mine. "Do you want to…you know, talk about anything? Is there anything I can try to help with?"

"I appreciate the offer, baby, but I'm fine. Really," I tell her and kiss her gently. She hums happily against my lips. Her fingertips draw little patterns on the back of my neck. Even after our kiss breaks, we sit like this for several minutes. Funk or no, I'm happy to be with her like this. It quiets the voices in my head telling me I'm still an irreparable screw up.

"What the…what's Ren doing, kicking everyone out early?" she says suddenly, straightening her back to sit up fully while she looks inside. I peek over my shoulder. Serenity has turned off all the overhead lights, save for the row of colored Christmas lights that hang eternally on the front wall, the track lights above the register and bar, and flickering LED tea lights that have suddenly appeared on every single table. When she sees Katniss looking in at her curiously, she waves her hand to get her to come back inside. I follow her in and stand near the front door while she covers half the shop with long strides to get an explanation. Instead of offering one, Serenity stands behind the microphone and smiles impishly at my girlfriend.

"Ladies and gentlemen, as always, we thank you ever so kindly for your participation and attendance at our Open Mic Night. We have one final performer, who also happens to be a member of our silly little Wanderer's family…you all know her as the gal who's been serving you your caffeine du jour all evening long. Now, she's a little shy, so it might take a bit more convincing than usual, so everyone chant her name if you feel so inclined…ladies and gentleman, Katniss Everdeen!" Serenity says excitedly. The place hoots and hollers. Katniss stands stiff as a board before slowly turning towards a cheeky Gale and Finnick who stand behind her at once and begin prodding her towards the make-shift stage. I hear her calling them tricksters and assholes repeatedly before they finally coax her in front of the microphone to take Serenity's place.

I plop back down in my chair in between Madge and Annie, who are giggling excitedly and clapping for her. "Watch out for those spiders, Madge," I whisper quickly. She shushes me and points my attention back to where Katniss and Gale are whispering heatedly to one another. Finally Gale says something to her that convinces her to sit back in the stool and take the mic in her hand.

"I want everyone to know I'm doing this under severe protest. And I expect our tip jar to be _completely full _by the time we count out the drawer tonight because this is…ugh. Fine," she says, and takes a deep breath. She closes her eyes for a minute. As if on cue, everyone at every table flicks off the tea lights in front of them, making the place that much darker. She laughs softly into the microphone. Then she sings.

"_There's a little bird somebody sent_

_Down to the earth to live on the wind_

_Blowing on the wind, and she sleeps on the wind_

_This little bird somebody sent._"

It's beautiful. Maybe even more beautiful than the song she'd sung when she thought I was still sound asleep in the cabin.

"_Light and fragile and feathered sky blue_

_Thin and graceful, the sun shining though_

_She flies so high up in the sky_

_Way out of reach of human eyes_"

Everyone in the place is staring at her, myself included. But instead of my heart swelling, like it did out in the woods, a pang of jealousy rips through my gut. Because _everyone _is watching her. Our friends. Serenity. Complete strangers. And I wish they wouldn't. I wish they'd just disappear, so this would be _my_ moment with her again.

"_Light and fragile and feathered sky blue_

_Thin and graceful, the sun shining through_

_She flies so high up in the sky_

_Way out of reach of human eyes_

_Light and fragile, she's feathered sky blue_

_Thin and graceful, the sun shining through_

_And the only time she touches ground is when that little bird_

_Little bird, is when that little bird_

_Little bird, is when that little bird dies._"

The place goes wild for her. Madge and Annie and Finnick and Gale leap out of their seats. Serenity flips the overhead lights back on and gives Katniss a hug for being such a good sport before kindly saying into the microphone that everyone needs to bus their tables and start heading out so the pair of them can be home by midnight. As she makes her way back behind the bar, several patrons stop Katniss, I assume bursting with kudos. Her face is noticeably flushed with the lights back on, but she's smiling broadly and taking every compliment she receives. Once again I marvel at how on earth it's possible that I get to call this girl mine.

Finnick and Annie are beginning their goodbyes to Madge and Gale. The boys blow Katniss a few kisses when they wave for her attention. She flips them off good naturedly, but smiles all the same. She calls out something that sounds like "Spiders!" in Gale's direction as he takes Madge's hand to lead her out to the car.

"You gonna be okay tonight, Peet?" Madge says quickly to me.

I kiss her cheek and nod. "Yeah. I'm gonna stay and chat with Katniss and Ren for a minute before they close up, though," I tell her. Finnick snorts out a laugh and mutters something that sounds a lot like the word _whipped _in Gale's ear. My skin prickles—I know he's meant it as innocent teasing, but damned if it hasn't rubbed me the wrong way.

"Momma wants you bringing a pie for tomorrow night, brother, don't forget!" Gale calls out to me and heads out. Annie gives me a hug goodnight and I tell her I'll see her in the morning for work, but I merely nod cooly at Finnick for his little comment that is still grating on my nerves. I plop back in my chair and swallow the last of my watered down latte and let the crowd disperse a little before I head over to the dish drop off to deposit my glass and steal a kiss from Katniss.

"Hey, Peeta, why don't you stay while we close? Mika's old fashioned, likes a guy around when we're closing down. Stay and protect us, won't you?" Serenity jokes, batting her eyes like a fool to the point I can't help but laugh at her.

"You should stay, baby. If you aren't too tired," Katniss says as she wipes the counter down. Her smile is soft and it settles my nerves a little. I am tired, but I don't really want to leave quite yet. I so rarely get to enjoy this place on my own anymore now that Finnick, Annie, Gale, and Madge have decided they like it so much. Maybe I'll ask her to come back to my place after all, even though hers is more comfortable. Or maybe I won't make the excuse that I don't have any clean work clothes at her place if she asks me to go home with her.

"I'll stay," I say to them. Serenity has me flip the switch for the Open sign and bolt the door behind the last customer to leave. The pair of them go through their closing motions quickly, restocking lids and straws, stacking chairs on top of tables, and winding up the microphone and amp wires while I sit on one of the plush chairs in the corner so I'm out of their way. I rifle through the Pictionary box on the game shelf behind my chair and palm one of the tiny pencils and pads of paper. My hands move automatically to sketch the girls behind the counter: Serenity with her doe eyes and bobbed hair tied back with a simple scarf, Katniss's slight scowl as she counts out the cash from the till, every so often stopping to toss her hair back out of her face. The sketch is rough, but it's easy to tell exactly the kind of warm, wonderful people they are from the expressions I've captured. I'm proud of that.

"Shit, Kat, the damn dishwasher is going out again!" Serenity calls from the kitchen a few minutes later. Katniss rolls her eyes and shuffles towards the back.

"Do we really have to wash it all by hand? Really?" she whines. Serenity mutters something and Katniss huffs before walking around the counter towards me. "It's gonna be a long close after all. Mika insists the dishwasher works fine when he's here, so he won't replace it. If you want to go home, you should. Get your sleep. I'll be here for a while," she tells me quickly.

"I told you I'd stay. Put me to work if that'll make things easier," I offer, flipping the drawing over in my lap automatically. I hate the feeling of someone looking over my shoulder or sneaking a peak of something I haven't offered to show them, even when that person is Katniss.

"Huh…Ren? Can we make Peeta help us, or will Mika get all knickers-in-a-twist over that?" Katniss calls out.

"Shit yes he can help! I'll give him my cut of the tip jar if he does!" she calls back.

"I'll take it, Ren," I say with a wink. "What do you need me to do?"

At their whims, I stack clean mugs and glasses back behind the counter, run the trash to the dumpster in the back, even sweep out the bathrooms. It's about an hour before everything is done and Serenity zips up the deposit bag and stuffs it in her purse to take it to the bank.

"Alrighty, kids…can you lock up?" she says to Katniss, who nods quickly.

"See you later, Ren, thanks for coming in," Katniss tells her and gives her a quick hug. I do the same before she heads out the back door towards her car. Katniss is idly running a wet rag above the espresso machine as a final task when she hits the light and bathes the place in near darkness. Only the lights behind the counter provide any light at all. For a quick moment I'm not in the coffee shop at all, but my old bar. I shake the image from my mind as soon as Katniss hops down from her perch and shuffles to the back to toss the rag in the dirty laundry bin.

_There's no really mistaking this place for the Sword and Ax. Why the hell would I think otherwise?_

I realize I've left my rough sketch of her and Serenity on the table by the chair I'd been sitting in and stride over to stuff it in my pocket. I take another quick look at it; suddenly I don't like it so much after all. The lines are smudged in the wrong ways. Katniss is too much taller than Serenity and my rendering of her doesn't look like someone who can silence an entire coffee house with her singing voice. I feel myself scowling as I study it.

_Toss it. It's no good anyway. Just chuck it so no one wastes their time looking at it._

I crumple it in my fist reflexively.

"What's that?" Katniss asks, pointing towards my fist when I follow her towards the back door.

"Oh, nothing. Just doodles," I tell her.

Her hand pauses on my arm and I feel her fingers curl around my fist. "Can I see?" she asks.

I yank my arm away and crumple the paper further. "It's nothing, Katniss, really. Lemme just…"

"C'mon, I'd like to see it…you never show me your drawings," she replies, moving her body against me to reach out for the paper ball in my hand.

"I show you…" I begin, but her stare cuts me off. _I guess I don't._ "It's not very good, I'm just gonna toss it."

"If you toss it in the trash can here I'll just fish it out and look at it anyway. Please? You spend almost every Wednesday morning in here drawing and I've still never seen what you do. Except that time at Gale and Madge's…"

"Because I stink, Katniss. I'm lousy," I tell her. I can tell my voice is beginning to be laced with anger and I don't know why. I move away from her with a heavy stride towards the bathroom. She won't be able to see it if I flush it down the toilet.

"Peeta, come on! Don't be like that," she says, trailing after me. She's too late, though. I've already tossed the scrap of paper into the bowl and pressed down on the lever to flush it down.

_There. Now no one can see it. _

"Why'd you…you don't want me seeing you drawings _that _badly? Really?" she says, her face contorted in confusion.

"Yes, Katniss! I don't want you seeing that one, it wasn't good! My art _isn't _good. It's just something to keep my fucking hands busy so I don't pour myself a drink, okay? Don't go thinking I'm something I'm not. I'm not Picasso or Dali or fucking Freida Kahlo and I never will be! Leave it _alone_," I snap at her with finality.

For a second she looks hurt. Then her eyes steel against mine and she moves towards me, pushing me flush against the wall. "What's wrong?" she demands.

"Nothing, fuck," I sneer.

"You're lying. This isn't you. What's wrong?" she demands.

"Leave it alone, Katniss," I warn her.

"No! Tell me! Let me in so I can try to help you!" she says fiercely.

"I don't need any—" I begin as her lips surge towards mine. Her small body pins me against the cool tile of the wall. I try to resist her probing tongue, her tiny hands as they grip the belt loops on my pants, but something inside me triggers a decidedly different reaction. I could overpower her easily if I wanted to and push her away. Instead I grab her ass possessively and slide my tongue greedily along hers.

Our kiss breaks with a loud pop. She looks at me squarely and her eyes command me to do something, say something, explain myself maybe. I narrow my eyes as I take in her perfect body: her perky breasts with her nipples pebbling through her shirt, the tanned skin of her midriff and thighs that her shorts don't quite cover, her quicksilver eyes that pierce mine without mercy. I feel the overwhelming sensation of wanting her and for a moment, I loathe her for it. I'm a fucking slave to the effect she has on me. I am fucking whipped. _Fuck._

I grab her hips roughly and haul her towards the sink in the corner. I prop her up on it and yank mercilessly at the apron still tied around her waist, my fingers fumbling blindly at where she's double knotted it behind her until the fabric finally gives way with a rip. She wraps her legs around my hips and brings our centers flush together, only a couple of layers of fabric separating her silky folds and my rapidly rising cock.

"Are you still…" I ask her as I begin to attack her neck hungrily. I feel her head shake side to side quickly as her small hands begin to work at the fastenings of my pants. I bite down on the supple flesh of her shoulder through her t-shirt and she yelps quietly.

"Off," she demands, yanking hard on my newly undone pants which I tug quickly down my legs. I swat her hands away to take over where she's working on the fastening of her own shorts. The button refuses to give way immediately under my hurried fingers and makes me swear in frustration. It's an aggravating moment of growling and telling her to get her hands away and let _me _do it before the fabric parts and I can yank it down her legs. She mewls when I finally succeed and I part her thighs quickly, plunging my cock inside her without a second thought.

She tosses her head back as soon as we're joined. Her walls encasing me feel so warm and soft and I snap my hips against hers over and over. Her fingernails claw lightly at my exposed chest as she leans backwards to give me a new angle to thrust into. I snatch her hands by the wrists and pin them above her head as I pivot a little deeper inside her. Her eyes open wide in surprise when the backs of her hands press hard up against the mirror behind her, but only for a moment; I've managed to find the right angle to brush against that sweet spot inside her. Her jaw goes slack and she locks her legs around my waist, moaning out my name as I slam my cock inside her mercilessly.

My mind is working faster than my body can keep up with. I want to run my tongue over every inch of her skin, make her feel like she's on fire with need for me like I feel for her. But being sheathed inside her is so delicious, so satisfying that I can't bring myself to pull out of her until we're both sticky, sated messes…

…Until I catch a look at myself in the mirror and spy the crazed look on my face. It doesn't even look like me. And I don't want her seeing me like this.

I yank her hands down from their position above her head, then do the same with the rest of her quivering body off the sink. She moans wantonly when I pull out of her and flip her around so she's bent over the sink. Before she gets a moment to complain, I'm inside her again, forcing her hands back above her head so her palms are flat on the mirror pinned with my own and I'm fucking her that much harder at this angle.

"Oh _God_, Peeta!" she cries out, thrashing her head back and forth.

"Come on, baby…come on," I gasp as I move inside her ever faster, my lower back growing sore for the effort of fucking her so hard. I can feel her clamping down around me, but I know she's trying to hold out. I _want_ to hear her cry out for me. "Come for me Katniss, fuck…I'm so close."

"Y-yes…oh God!" she pants as she begins to tremble. The sink beneath her hips gives us just the leverage we need to come together more than I really thought was possible. She screams out my name a moment later, and I feel myself spill inside her as her walls clench me like a vice. We pant through the afterglow, our chests rising and falling in sync with the other's. The fog begins to part from my mind when I feel my softening member twitch inside her.

"Oh, shit…shit! Katniss, we didn't…" I stammer as I begin to pull my out of her. A few last vestiges of semen leak out of my tip. The very, very uncovered tip. When I'm no longer pressing her into the sink, she turns around and her hands fly to her mouth as soon as she looks down at me.

"I…I didn't even think about it," she squeaks out.

"Fuck, I—I don't know what came over me," I tell her, grasping for my underwear and pants where they're pooled around my ankles. She bends to collect her own shorts and furrows her brows—I catch out of the corner of my eye that her panties are ripped around the top hem. _How did—did I manage to do that?_ She throws her shorts on without them and stuffs them in her back pocket.

"It's…it'll be okay. We just need to stop by the drug store on the way home, that's all. It'll be fine, Peeta, I'm sure," she tells me, her voice shaky. As she gets herself together again, I see the hint of red marks around her wrists from where I'd held them aloft. The notion that I might have hurt her in anyway feels like I've been punched in the gut. I want to wretch into the toilet.

"No, it's not…fuck, Katniss, look at your wrists," I say, my voice barely more than a whimper. She fits herself into my arms quickly and smoothes the hair on the back of my neck.

"It doesn't hurt, I promise. It's okay. I'll tell you if you ever…we just need to go to the drug store, just in case, alright? Just to make sure," she whispers gently into my ear.

It's a few minutes before we're both stable enough to move. She wipes everything we touched down with a Clorox wipe and tosses it into the trash can before leading me by the hand out of the bathroom so she can grab her stuff from behind the counter. I thump my head against the backdoor over and over again.

_Too rough. Too mean. Unprotected. She should hate me. She shouldn't forgive me so easily. Fuck, fuck, fuck. You're an asshole, Peeta Mellark. You're a piece of shit._

Out of nowhere I hear Katniss shriek from the back room. I race around the counter to see what's happened, worried she's found another mark I've left on her without realizing it. When my eyes drift over and see Serenity's cheeky face staring at us, I don't know whether or not to feel all the more mortified or insanely relieved.

"Fuck, Ren! When did you come back in?" Katniss squeals at her

"I got down the street before I realized I left the deposit slips. I didn't hear…um, much," she says, holding her hands up defensively.

Katniss covers her face with her hands. I feel the need to vomit again.

"Kat, calm down. You think you're the only one who's ever ploughed their partner in that bathroom? I promise you, you're not. I'm not gonna tell Mika, if that's what you're worried about," Serenity says calmly. Her face still shows traces of obvious amusement. She winks at me quickly as if to say _Good job! _I wish she wouldn't do that right now, especially when I just anger-fucked my girlfriend without a condom and couldn't possibly feel like more of an asshole.

"That's not what we're worried about Ren, Christ," Katniss says, grabbing her purse and my hand and force-marching us out the door.

"So, I'll just lock up, then?" Serenity's voice calls out to us as Katniss shoves the door open and we step out. If my face is flushed, hers is on fire. She shoves her car key into her door lock and looks at me expectantly.

"Are you coming?" she asks me tersely.

"Katniss, I should just go," I say, my voice riddled with guilt.

"No, _fuck_ you going home alone! You're coming with me to the drug store so we can get the morning-after pill for me and then you're sleeping at my place. And you're not doing it because you're obliged to, got it? You're my boyfriend and I want you with me tonight. So come the fuck on," she snaps, her body vibrating in anger or embarrassment or maybe just the need to be comforted. My shoulders slump and I close the space between us, taking her in my arms tenderly and kissing the crown of her head.

"I'm sorry," I tell her again and again.

"Stop apologizing. Come home with me," she murmurs.

I sigh heavily, wanting to figure out a decent excuse to just go home so I can feel like a dick all on my own. But finally the words, "I'd like that," come from my lips and I know I'm being honest.

"Good," she says, pulling away and swiping under her eyes quickly. "Get in, I'll drive you around to your car."

I follow her to a 24 hour Walgreens midway between the coffee house and her place. She lets me swipe my debit card for the seventy-odd dollar purchase and then takes it out in the parking lot when we're getting back into our cars. This little action seems to calm her completely and by the time we make it back to her place, she's totally back to normal. When we're settled into her bed with the lights off, she takes my arm and moves it around her so she's spooned under me.

"I should go on the Pill, just in case that ever happens again," she murmurs sleepily, the emotions of the evening catching up with her.

"I'll be more careful, I promise. I don't mind using condoms. I…I don't know what came over me, baby," I say, my voice cracking around the edges as I ghost my fingertips over her arm lightly.

"It's okay. I would have told you to stop if I wanted you to stop, alright?" she says. She arches her neck back so she can look at me. Her eyes are full of forgiveness I'm still not sure I deserve.

So I tell her, "I don't know if I deserve you, Katniss."

"Don't ever say that again. I want _you_, Peeta. Get that through your head," she whispers, her tone just rough enough to drive her point home. She shifts in my arms so she can kiss me properly and nestle against my chest. After a few minutes, I hear her breathing even out. I run my fingers through her hair delicately and try to calm my own pounding heart. My mind, however, is still racing, and I know sleep will be next to impossible to come by. I glance up at the ceiling, where two floors up I know Madge is sleeping soundly next to Gale.

_Seven…eight…maybe nine. Please, God, don't let me do anything stupid._

* * *

**A/N: Thanks for all the kind words in regards to my wedding this weekend! It'll be at least one week until I can update again, but when I am back from my wedding and honeymoon, it'll be a double chapter update! Thanks for your patience on that front!**

**In the meantime, I have a LOT of stuff queued on my Tumblr for this story (alltherightfriendsff dot tumblr dot com), including an outtake that will go up on Saturday morning. It'll _only_ be up on Tumblr for the time being, so make sure to check it out if you're interested.**

**Thank you all in advance for your fabulousness - follows, favs, and reviews are the greatest!**


	16. I Breathe in a Lie

**Thank you ALL for your kind wishes regarding my wedding last week. It was DEFINITELY the fastest day of my life, but also one of the very best, and I'm a very happy newlywed now!**

**For those of you who might have missed it: the epilogue of this story was written a couple of weeks ago, so this story is ostensibly complete on my end, though there are still 10+ chapters to be posted. I feel the need to repeat that because there is some decidedly darker!Peeta ahead in the next couple of chapters, so I want to reassure everyone here and now that the rest of the story won't be a swirling pile of dark and depressing...just parts of it will be. Don't hate me, please.**

**Finally, thank you for your PATIENCE with this chapter and the one that will follow shortly. There was definitely no way with the hubbub of wedding and honeymoon that much ficcing would get done, but I'm most certainly back in action now and can't wait to share the rest of Recovery!Peeta's journey with you. Thanks for staying tuned!**

* * *

_Touch my mouth and hold my tongue_

_I'll never be your chosen one_

_I'll be home safely tucked away_

_Well you can't tempt me if I don't see the day_

_The pull on my flesh was just too strong_

_Stifled the choice and the air in my lungs_

_Better not to breathe than to breathe a lie_

_'Cause when I opened my body I breathe in a lie_

-Mumford & Sons

* * *

"Peeta…Peeeeeta…" a voice singsongs. For a moment I'm not sure if it's another nightmare or an actual human voice. I am too groggy from lack of sleep to tell for certain. I haven't had dreams this bad since I went through detox.

"Peeta? Baby…wake up…" I hear again as soft lips graze my cheeks, my jaw, my throat. I groan softly as Katniss starts peppering my exposed chest with kisses. I'm glad it's real. I'm glad there will be no more dreams for a little while.

I open my eyes and take in the girl straddling my waist, kissing my skin softly, smiling at me whenever she catches my gaze with her own. So lovely. So perfect. So much better than I deserve.

"'Morning," she whispers as her lips trail ever farther down my body. She's pulling my boxers off me a second later and before I can figure out exactly why, her mouth is enveloping me. Her tongue twirls around the very tip before her face plunges down around me. I hiss and grasp the sheets beneath me with my fingertips. Her mouth is hot, but her tongue seems almost cold when she runs it along the underside of my shaft. I look over to her bedside table and see an open container of Altoids before my eyes roll back in my head from the sheer bliss of what she's doing to me.

"Fuck, baby," I moan out. I hear a low giggle that reverberates on my cock and I just want to die from how good it feels. I tangle one of my hands in her hair and tug softly, guiding the movements of her mouth until I begin to feel a familiar pressure build at the base of my spine. I don't want to come in her mouth, I want to be inside her properly. I place both my hands on the side of her face and drag her away me entirely. She smiles at me wickedly and shimmies up my body, reaching for the condom I force into her hand and sheathes it around me quickly. She pivots her hips and sinks down around my hardened flesh with a soft moan from the back of her throat. My hands go instantly to her hips as she begins to rock them up and down.

"You feel so good, Katniss," I groan out.

"So do—ah—so do you, baby," she replies. She reaches her hand behind her and her palm cups me lightly. I swear out in pleasure, wanting nothing more than to feel this good, this alive for the rest of the day. I dread actually coming, because that means this bliss will end. I try to hold out as long as possible, but she slaps her hips against mine over and over again and continues the glorious work with her hand and I fall apart underneath her with a loud groan of her name.

She pivots off me and tucks herself against my chest as I try to catch my breath. When I finally do, I kiss her slowly, my hand trailing down her abdomen toward her center because it wasn't lost on me that I didn't hear her get off—and I _always_ hear when she does. I furrow my brows when she closes her fingers over mine and wraps them around her back instead.

"I'm okay. It's not about me right now. It's about you…do you feel good?" she whispers, stroking the side of my face gingerly. I suddenly don't know how to answer her. Physically, I feel satisfied and relieved, the way I always do after we make love. But the heart that beats inside my chest is heavy, because there's no mistaking what today is.

July 30th…the last day my father woke up and greeted the day before going to sleep forever.

"I'm okay," I tell her. It's not entirely true and she knows it. But it's about as good as it's going to get.

"I wish I didn't have to go in to work…I really want to be with you today," she tells me, running her thumb idly over the top of my shoulder. I kiss her forehead gingerly.

"I appreciate that, Katniss. But I need to get through today on my own, you know? Just to make sure I can do it," I tell her. Madge had fought me on the decision when I'd told her a couple of weeks ago. She wanted to convince all our friends to play hooky from work with me and maybe go out to the cabin in the woods. But Effie never would have allowed both Annie and Finnick to take the day off when I'd already requested it and Gale is at the tail end of a massive project at work. Their lives can't start and stop at my whim.

Besides, mourning is something someone should do alone, right?

"Are you still having lunch with your mom?" Katniss asks me, snapping me back to attention. I nod quickly.

"Yeah…what time is it?"

"Mmm…about 10:30. What time do you have to meet her?"

"11:30. Damn, I should get going so I can shower first," I tell her. I squeeze her to me once more before I reluctantly pull myself out of bed.

"You could just start leaving things here, you know. Shampoo and boxers and socks and whatnot," she tells me as I pull on the clothes I'd worn over the night before. My body stops moving on instinct. This is something I have thought of in passing, but the idea of actually doing it is a little too...I don't know. I figured it would scare her off.

"I, um. Yeah, I guess I could. You could, too, you know. At my place," I reply as I go back to tying one of my shoes.

"Ah, but your clothes are so much more comfortable than mine," she says coyly.

"Is that where all my underwear have been disappearing to?" I ask.

She giggles in reply. "Well jeez, I only steal the clean ones."

I lean down and capture her lips softly. She's done so much for me already in the half hour or so I've been awake, it seems like such a shallow gesture in return. But she grins at me happily when our lips separate.

_God I love her_, I think again. But I know better than to say it.

"Come back over tonight, please? I want you to," She asks softly. I tuck a strand of her hair behind her ear.

"No promises. I need to not use you as my crutch today, Katniss."

"You don't use me as a crutch, Peeta. You're the strongest person I know," she says. It sounds wonderful on her lips. I just wish I believed it myself.

"When you see Madge, tell her 'a four', okay?" I ask. She looks confused but nods anyway.

"Go get showered, goofball, so your mother doesn't smell my sexiness all over you," she says finally, tossing a pillow in my direction. I dodge it with a smile and head out the door.

* * *

I have a sticker on my front door when I get home alerting me to a package delivery left in the leasing office. It seems early for the mail to have been delivered, but I head back down the steps to collect whatever it is. I haven't checked my proper mail for a while anyway. I come back to the apartment five minutes later, laden down with a week's worth of circulars, junk mail, student loan statements, and a small package of art supplies that had been on backorder when I bought it as a birthday present for myself.

When I get inside the apartment, Sammy is pacing in front of her food dish, growling pathetically. This isn't entirely uncommon for her when I get home after spending the night with Katniss, but there's something a little different about her meows today. Her back is arched and her fur is slightly standing on end. I lean down to pet her, but she scampers away and yowls quietly from under the couch.

_Does she know what today is? Could she possibly remember what happened a year ago?_

It seems ludicrous for a cat to have any sort of memory of their human dying. But I suppose stranger things have happened. I put food in her dish before I pad off to shower and change for the rest of my day. I run the water as hot as I can stand it, letting it beat down on my tired shoulder muscles for several minutes before I finally wash up. It makes me feel a little less numb, but not by much. I'm glad I have the day off. My regular clients would be able to tell immediately that I'm not myself today.

I have a few minutes before I need to leave after I run a razor over my face and dress, so I rummage through the mail I'd deposited on my coffee table, ignoring Sammy's hissing from her hiding place. My hand lingers a minute over two plain envelopes in the middle of the stack—the letters I'd sent to Bannock and Rye.

As befitting her role as my sponsor, Madge and I had spent an anxiety-filled evening compiling my list for Step Eight—"make a list of all persons we have harmed, and become willing to make amends to them all". Rye had been at the very top of my list, only naturally, but Bannock wasn't far behind. There were a lot of things I'd done to them over the last couple of years as a direct byproduct of my drinking—sleeping with Rye's girlfriend notwithstanding. I'd also been a complete drunken asshole for most of my father's wake and memorial service, not to mention the time we spent cleaning up his house after it happened. I'd caught their stares more than once, heard Ban murmur to Rye that I was slowly but surely turning into our mother and snapped at them in anger over the comment.

With Madge's help, I'd cataloged and prioritized everything I could remember doing or saying to them when I'd been too messed up to know better before moving right on to Step Nine—"make direct amends to such people wherever possible, except when to do so would injure them or others". While letters aren't exactly "direct amends", Madge had suggested it as a launch point for getting into contact with them again. Let them know what I'm working for and put the ball in their hands for what they will and won't allow me to say to them. It'd made me sick to write them—it seemed so impersonal—but I felt better after they were sent off. And to be honest, it's partially been the reason that I've avoided checking the mail ever since.

I'd correctly guessed that both letters would come back to me. Unopened. _Return to sender _written in big, block letters all over the envelopes. I sigh heavily as I pull my phone out of my pocket and scroll to Madge's name.

"What's wrong, Peet?" she says as soon as she answers.

"Nothing…well…no, not nothing. Ban and Rye's letters…they sent them back to me. Didn't even open them," I say, my voice shaky at best.

"Oh, Peeta…I'm sorry," she says. She sounds relieved. As if this was the least of what she was worried about with me today.

"Yeah. Me too," I say.

"What can I do? Anything? Are you sure you don't want to come back over here? It's just me today, but we can, I dunno, watch shitty reality TV and play board games until Katniss and Gale get home…" she offers. She's such a fixer. Unfortunately, this isn't something she can fix.

"I've gotta get going for lunch with my mom. I'll talk to her about it, maybe. I think she got the same reaction from them when she got to this point. Actually, I know she did. Maybe she'll have some thoughts," I tell her.

"That's perfect. You know she'll be supportive. She'll do whatever she can to help you with this. So will I. All of us. We're here for you, no matter what, okay?" Madge says.

"I know it. Thanks, Madgie," I reply.

"Anytime. Come over after lunch if you want. Or at least check in here and there today, promise?"

"I promise, Madge."

"One to ten, Peet?"

"Maybe a five."

"Call me the second you're any higher than that?"

"Sure. Bye."

"Bye, Peeta. I love you," she says.

_Madge can say it, even if it's platonically. Why can't Katniss?_

* * *

Lunch with Mom balances me out. I explain receiving the letters back and how much it stings. Her hand is warm when it covers mine and it helps center me a little.

"Baby, you got my genes. You might look exactly like your Dad, but you got my shitty, alcoholic genes. They didn't. They don't understand how hard this is for you. They have no context for understanding it. But that doesn't mean they'll always hold what you did over your head. They might come around. It could just be a while," she tells me, her voice concerned but genuine. I nod sadly.

"They never did let you in, though, did they?" I say.

"It's different with me. You know that. What I did…oh, it runs so much deeper. I was surprised enough you came around like you did. I thank God every day that you gave me this second chance. I'm so proud of you, Peeta. So, so proud," she says. She says it all the time. But it's still good to hear when I feel this shitty.

_Six…five…four…yeah, that's better. Madge would be proud, too._

"Can we change the subject, Mom? Talk about something not quite so depressing?" I ask, trying my best to seem lighthearted.

"Well…I have been dying to hear more about how things are going with Katniss," she says with a smile playing at her lips. I feel the tips of my ears burn a bit. But yes…talking about Katniss is much better than talking about Bannock and Rye, or thinking about Dad.

After that pick-me-up, I'm blindsided by how suddenly the wind gets knocked out of my sails again. The rest of our lunch is so nice. And then the check comes and Mom refuses to let me cover even part of it.

"Ms. Bennett, thank you so much for coming in today. You two have a wonderful afternoon!" the chipper waitress says when she puts my mother's credit card back down in front of her. My head starts to swim. _Why would the waitress call my mother by her maiden name?_

I steal a glance when Mom signs the little sales slip. My mother has always had impeccable handwriting. And sure enough, when she signs along the line at the bottom, her perfect cursive lettering spells out _Armarna Bennett. _

"Mom...did you...did you go back to your maiden name?" I stammer out as we leave the restaurant. She looks at me with a very specific face—it's the same face she'd worn when she told me about Chaff. Reluctant. Guilty. Imploring.

"Yes, I—I did. The paperwork was finalized a couple of weeks ago." Her voice seems sad. My heart pounds in my ears.

"W-why?" I gasp out finally. My mother hasn't been Armarna Bennett since before Bannock was born. She's been Armarna Mellark all my life. She came back into my life as Armarna Mellark. She was _always_ supposed to be Armarna Mellark.

"Oh, baby, I worried about how to tell you. But it's...well, it's been something I've been thinking about for a while. And, well, it makes the most sense to me. There was a time that I did love your father, very _very_ much. So much that I wanted his name as my own. But...oh, Peeta, you remember how awful I was. You remember too well what a terrible person I became because you took more of it than you should have. All of that happened after your father and I got married, after I changed my name. And I had been that person for so long, you know, I just figured I always would be. But part of being sober means never allowing myself to be that woman again. I wanted to be better, stronger, more capable than I was when I drank. I didn't want to be that terrible woman who did those terrible things to you and your brothers. Do you understand that? Those were things that Armarna _Mellark_ did. I want to be the mother now that you and Ban and Rye deserved and never had, and there was just...oh, there was too much stigma I associated with my name. My married name, at least. Going back to my maiden name...it just makes so much more sense, you see?" she explains. Her words are full of honey dipped swords.

"So…you're saying if you hadn't married Dad…you wouldn't have started drinking?" I gasp. My brain is starting to get fuzzy. I'm not sure I'm interpreting her words correctly at all.

"No, baby…it's just the _name…_oh, how do I explain this properly?" she begins, but I don't let her finish.

"You _are…_you are blaming Dad. For your drinking, for all those times you beat us senseless, for all the terrible things you'd say to all four of us...you think that was Dad's fault?!" I sneer. All rationality has left my brain as quickly as it came back to me. How _dare _she not want our name anymore? All that's left of our family is _our name. _And she doesn't want it anymore.

I want to hit her. I want to push her up against the wall and tell her that my father was never her problem—she was. Our name—_my_ name—had nothing to do with it.

"Peeta, no! No, your father was a good, kind man. The only thing I did right all those years ago was not fight when he took the three of you away. Ezekiel wasn't perfect, but he was a good man, and..."

"Shut up! Don't say his name if you don't even want to use it! You don't get to say his name in one breath and denounce it in the other, _Mother_. He was _my_ father, he was all _I_ had for too many years and today is the fucking day he died and you pick _today_ to tell me that he was to blame for everything? How fucking dare you?" I snap. I turn on my heels and dash towards my car.

"Peeta, please! I never said that! Please, calm down and talk to me! Let me explain!" she cries out after me. I want to spit in her face.

"Stay away from me, Mother. I'll be at home, mourning the man you seem to think drove you to drink and beat your children. I have nothing else to say to you," I say, my throat burning from the effort of choking back sobs. I slam the door to my car after I get behind the wheel and peel out of my parking spot. I refuse to look in rear view mirror.

_How dare she cry? How dare she forget the father of her children? How dare she...how dare she..._

_How dare _you_, Dad? How dare you leave me…how fucking dare you…_

I have to pull over a few blocks from my apartment because it's too hard to drive with the tears streaming down my face the way they are. But despite my promise, I don't call Madge.

I smoke half a pack of my cigarettes before I go back into my apartment. Sammy's yowling again. It's nice to be outside for a while, where it's muffled. _Fuck, Sammy. Shut up._

I try to occupy my time with sketching, but I end up tearing out and crumpling everything I draw. Lousy, all of it. Katniss's braid is either too long or too short. Her eyes don't line up properly. Her smile is too elusive. Trying to draw Madge and Gale or Annie and Finnick is just as frustrating.

I decide to burn the letters when I spot them again on my coffee table. I take them back outside with me and use my lighter to set each of them on fire in turn. I light a cigarette with the flames the flicker off the end of one, then the other. I stamp them out with the heel of my tennis shoe, leaving a long charcoal mark on my makeshift patio. It'll probably fade away next time it rains.

My phone chirps with an incoming email when I go back inside. Sammy's mewls have grown more pathetic, but at least she's hiding in the bathroom for now. I close the door to muffle it more and slide the button to read the received message. My jaw hangs loose when I see the sender is none other than Bannock fucking Mellark.

**Subject: This needs to be said.**

It's maybe more than I could ask for to have him reach out like this. My heart pounds in my ears as I read the message. The first few lines are nice enough: **Hope you're managing through this first anniversary. I miss Dad every day, so I'm sure you do, too. The fact that it's today makes it that much harder to do this, but I don't feel like I have any other choice.**

Then the shoe drops. I read the email over and over. Something in Bannock's words hits me differently every time. By the time I finish it a fourth, a fifth, a sixth time, I realize tears are streaming down my face for the second time today.

**This has to be said, Peeta, and you need to understand that I'm being completely serious. Don't reach out to Rye. Don't run into him at the grocery store or anywhere else for that matter. Stay away from him. And while you're at it…stay away from me, too. We don't ever want you to contact us again, Peeta. What you did was inexcusable. A day may come when we forgive you, but we'll never forget what you did. We'll never trust you again. You should leave us alone and we'll do the same in kind. It's too much for us, especially after everything our mother put us all through, to have a little brother that's just like her. The booze is too much. It turns you into someone we don't care to know. So we're going to have to choose not to have you in our lives because it makes it easier on us. You owe us that much. **

That's it, I realize. That's the last thing I'll ever hear from him. These hollow words telling me I'm a fuck up, a loser, a poor excuse for a man my father would be ashamed to know was a byproduct of his life are the last things Bannock will ever say to me.

I delete the email. It hurts too badly to look at. I drop my phone off to the side when it disappears forever. I yank open the bathroom door a minute later, just barely allowing Sammy to dart out past me before I fall to my knees in front of the toilet and begin wretching. It's a long time before the contents of my stomach are completely cleaned out and I sit on the cold bathroom floor for a long time while I get my bearings again.

_You no longer have brothers. They've disowned you. They hate you. They'll never speak to you again. Sleeping with that girl, as much of a bitch as she was, ruined it. You fuck up. You asshole. They hate you so much._

From her perch on top of the refrigerator Sammy begins to yowl again. Like she knows that my heart has just been torn out. Like she's watching my father die all over again.

"Shut the fuck up, you stupid cat! Shut up!" I scream at her from the bathroom floor, plugging my fingers in my ears. It doesn't help, not by a long shot.

I get up as quickly as my body will allow and snatch my phone back up. Annie is one of the first people in my contacts that I'd actually want to talk to right now. I press send and pray she's on a break at work right now. The line rings and rings and rings. Her cheerful voice greets me when it connects to voicemail. A loud sob tries to escape my throat, but I hold it back and disconnect the call before it clicks over to let me record a message for her.

Cresta first. Everdeen next. For whatever reason, the picture of me kissing the top of Katniss's head in her contact photo is too much for me to look at. Maybe because I look too happy in it, so unlike how I feel in this terrible moment.

"Please, baby…please answer," I whimper softly.

She's still not changed her outgoing message from that cheeky one she had while she was in graduate school, telling Haymitch that she was, in fact, writing. Right now I know she's probably making her fiftieth latte of the day, brewing an umpteenth pot of drip coffee, laughing playfully along with Carl and Bekah and the throng of customers that go in and out of Wanderer's each day.

_Doesn't she get it? Doesn't she know? Why won't she just fucking answer?_

I end the call again before it clicks over and look through my contacts again. My hand is shaking wildly as I try to scroll through—it'd be Gale's number next, I know—and it my haste, the phone falls out of my hand and cracks against the corner of my coffee table.

"Fuck…fuck!" I say as I pick the device back up and see the large crack across the screen its collision with the coffee table has left behind. I'm sure it's not ruined, but it still feels like _I_ am.

Out of nowhere, the device in my hand feels like it's on fire and is burning my palm. Something inside me breaks and before I even realize I've done it, I've thrown it like a baseball at my back window. I don't know my own strength apparently, because it hits the window pane just right and breaks through it. It must land somewhere behind my building, maybe in a bush or a puddle, but I can't see it when I look through the broken glass to find where it's gone.

_Dad. Daddy. Daddy! Fuck you! I fucking hate you for leaving me._

I don't realize I'm screaming until my voice begins to break, until my throat starts to burn from the effort of the guttural noises I'm making. I hold my head in my hands for a moment before I thrash out again. My corner lamp falls with a crash against the floor. I kick it out of my way towards the ancient television on top of my dresser to pull it down and smash it to the floor as well. I flip my coffee table next, then my bedside table. My clock radio begins to play a loud, angry song, so I smash that, too: anything to make the noises stop. But Sammy's cries only get louder and my voice rises alongside her pathetic meows.

"Shut the fuck up! Shut up! He's dead, you stupid fucking cat, don't you realize that? He's never coming back for you! He's dead! He's dead!" I scream at her.

_Daddy. Daddy. Daddy,_ I chant over and over again in my head as I take the butcher knife out of my knife block and sink it into the pillows on my couch, then the couch itself. I only realize I've sliced open my finger when the blood makes the handle slippery in my hand. I throw it aside with a clatter and rock back and forth on my heels, praying for Sammy to stop, for my own voice to stop crying out of my throat like it's trying to escape my body.

_Daddy! Madge! Katniss! Why did you leave me! Why didn't you know I couldn't handle this? Why didn't I make you stay?_

I yank open my front door, wanting a cigarette or maybe the entire pack, but my hands are too shaky to light one. Then out of the corner of my eye I see a flash of grey and black fur dart out of my open door and disappear down the cement stair case.

"Sammy! Come back!" I yelp as I give chase to the last piece of my father I have left. But four nimble paws are faster than two clumsy, high strung feet and she's completely out of sight by the time I get down to the parking lot. I'm shaking from head to toe. My eyes burn from crying and my voice refuses to carry any more. I gasp at her to come back, that I'm sorry, that I'll never yell or break things again, that I'll love her as much as my dad did, but it's too late. I'm talking to thin air.

I take the steps two at a time back to my apartment. It takes several minutes to find my car keys and wallet in the disaster I've made of my home, but I do and slam the door behind me. I'll have a better chance of finding her in my car than on foot, I'm sure. And when I find her, I'll go straight to Madge and Katniss. If they'll even see me.

_Madge tolerates you. You are her project, you realize that, right? And Katniss...she doesn't love you. Not like you love her. She doesn't love you and you know it. _

_Fuck it. I don't care if she doesn't love me. I need her. I need her anyway I can get her. I don't care if she doesn't love me if she'll just comfort me for a minute._

My hands shake as I push the key into the car ignition. I peel out of the parking lot without putting on my seat belt. I have no idea where I'm going or what I'm really looking for. _Get away, Peeta. Get away. Don't look back. Find anyone. Find someone. Find Sammy. Find anyone and Sammy._

The first stop light I actually obey is on the corner of Ocean and Sage Avenue. _Don't look to your right. Don't look..._

It's like telling someone walking a tightrope not to look down. My eyes trail over to the squat brick building on the right side of the intersection. And then I see them: a tall blonde man with a cigarette dangling out of his mouth as he speaks animatedly to a shorter, spikey haired brunette woman. I know them. They know me, maybe better than I know myself. They were my family once. They were my friends. And I abandoned them. My car pulls into the parking space in front of them as though it has a mind of its own. They see me. Their eyes narrow ever briefly before smiles break across their faces.

"Look who the fucking cat drug in!" Cato's booming voice calls out when I get out of the car and face them head on.

"Peeta-fucking-Mellark! You beautiful bastard!" Johanna cries out as she throws her arms around me. She smells like gin. They both do. I wait for the voice inside my head to remind me to rub my chips, to call Madge and tell her my One to Ten number is a solid, unabashed Ten, to remember my commitment to myself and my friends to never drink again. It should have triggered by now. It should tell me to just slide out of Johanna's arms, tell them to have a good night and that it was good to see them for a moment and get the hell back in my car.

That voice never comes.

"What the hell are you doing here, brother? We haven't seen you in ages, then all of a sudden you show up out of fucking nowhere?" Cato says, clapping me on the back so hard I stumble forward a little.

"You look like shit run over twice, Peet. Fuck, man, are you bleeding?" Jo slurs.

"Dude, say something," Cato presses.

I open my lips and something escapes that could be a human being's voice in another time, another place. It's not my own. It's not the voice I've been using for the last eight and a half months.

_Shiny. It'll all be shiny._

"I…I need a drink, guys," I tell them.

Their smiles get bigger. "Of fucking course you do!" Johanna cries excitedly. She grabs my hand and drags me inside. I recognize everything immediately. Nothing's changed in eight and half months. Not even me.

"Clove! This man is a Seagrams man! Double with soda, on the rocks, short glass. But first, three Jack shots! On the double, Clovey, move, move!"

The bartender named Clove pours the shots and slides them across the bar to us. I take mine in my blood covered, shaky hand, and hold it pensively.

_You were born a fuck up, Mellark. You'll die a fuck up. All this'll do is speed up the process._

"Cheers!" Johanna says triumphantly as she raises the little glass above our heads. "The Three Musketeers, back in action!"

"Cheers!" Cato hollers.

"C-cheers," I stammer right before the liquor burns its way down my throat.

And after that…everything is shiny.


	17. Burn Everything You Love

**Technical note for this chapter: It is entirely intentional that this chapter be written in third person to incorporate the emotions and reactions of Peeta's friends after the events of the previous chapter. After this chapter, the story will return to Peeta's first person POV.**

* * *

_I've got the scars from tomorrow and I wish you could see_

_That you're the antidote to everything except for me_

_A constellation of tears on your lashes_

_Burn everything you love, then burn the ashes_

_In the end everything collides_

_My childhood spat back out the monster that you see_

-Fall Out Boy

* * *

Madge wakes up slowly on the morning of the 31st. She'd spent the prior day cleaning the house like a madwoman for something to keep her hands busy. She needed that. It was that or worry about Peeta all day and at the end of it, Peeta is still a grown man. He's a lot stronger than he gives himself credit for. But still, she worried.

Gale had insisted yesterday that no news was good news. That it just meant he was keeping to himself and mourning his father in his own way. Madge was more so inclined to believe him than the voices inside her own head because he knew what Peeta was feeling from personal experience. He might have been much younger when his own father passed away, but he still knew better than she what it is to lose a parent. So even though something nagged her, she went to bed that night and slept surprisingly soundly.

Now, however, it's difficult to get out of bed. Gale's still snoring softly beside her. How nice would it be to just fall asleep next to him again, sleep in as long as they can on this his late day at work…

She can't think of any reason not to go back to sleep. So she does.

The next time she wakes, it's 11 in the morning. Madge is shocked she slept so late. Gale's in the shower and her phone is ringing loudly on her nightstand. She rubs her eyes quickly and picks it up, sliding her thumb across the touchscreen without really looking at who it is.

"Hello?"

"Madge, it's Annie!"

"Hey, Annie…what's up?"

"Um…have you…shit, do you know where Peeta is?" Annie says shakily. Madge feels her heart plummet in her chest.

"No. He spent the night at his place last night, or so Katniss said. Why?"

"He was supposed to be here at work at 10:30. But he didn't show and he's not answering his phone. Our boss is livid. It's Finnick's day off so I called him so he could come in and cover for his clients, but…Madge, this isn't like Peeta. I know him. He wouldn't no call, no show, not unless…"

"Unless something is really wrong…" Madge squeaks out to finish Annie's thought.

"There's something else, though…" Annie says, her voice sounding a lot like she's attempting to keep herself from crying. "He called me yesterday. I was at work, so I didn't see it until a couple of hours later…"

"He left a voicemail?"

"No. Just hung up. I called him back and left him a message, you know? Told him I was thinking about him and I was around if he needed me. Oh, Madge, I'm sorry…"

"It's not your fault, Ann. I'll find him. Gale and I and Katniss will find him. I'll let you know as soon as we do, okay?"

"Please. Madge, I'm so worried about him."

"I know it. Bye, Annie."

Madge narrowly resists the urge to scream. She flies out her bedroom door and races down the stairs. Some tinny music is playing in the kitchen and she enters it to find Katniss slicing fruit into a big bowl of yogurt. The noise must be coming from the small speakers on the bottom of her phone.

"Kat? Please tell me Peeta spent the night here last night after all. Came in after we went to bed or something," Madge shrieks at her roommate, making Katniss jump several inches.

"What? No! He slept at his place and is probably at work right now," Katniss responds, putting her hand over her fluttering heart.

"No, he's not! Annie just called…he didn't show up this morning! Call him, right now…maybe he's avoiding calls from people at work, but he won't ignore yours…"

"He did when I tried to call him back yesterday," Katniss says with a sigh.

"What? He called you yesterday? When?"

"I dunno, sometime in the afternoon. I was still at work, but I tried calling him back three or four times and he didn't pick up. He's in a funk, Madge. It was a rough day, leave him alone."

"No, Katniss. Rough days are what you and Gale have on the anniversaries of your fathers' deaths. Relapses are what alcoholics have on theirs. Oh God…I should never have left him alone…Gale! Gale!" Madge cries up the stairs. Her husband pokes his head down from the open hallway above them, a towel still around his waist from his shower.

"What, baby?" Gale calls out to her.

"It's Peeta. I know it, there's something wrong. We have to go to his place right now," she says as she ascends the staircase again. Katniss looks after her, then up at her best friend, completely dumbfounded.

"Get dressed, Catnip. You're coming with us," Gale says quickly before following his wife into their bedroom.

Katniss feels a surge of something shoot through her chest. Is it pain? No. Concern? Not strong enough.

"Oh, God, Peeta…what did you do?" Katniss whispers when she realizes that what she's feeling is soul crushing, body possessing dread. It may have taken her a little longer than it took Madge, but suddenly she knows the woman is right. Something is wrong. Very, very wrong.

* * *

From the outside, nothing looks terribly amiss at Peeta's apartment. His car isn't in the parking lot, but that isn't exactly unusual. A coffee can by his front door overflows with cigarette butts. Near the banister he usually leans against when he's outside smoking, two long black marks that look like charcoal mar the cement veranda. Gale slams his fist against the front door repeatedly.

"Peeta? Peet! Brother, come on, open up!" the man calls out. Madge puffs away on a cigarette next to him. Katniss peeks in the mostly covered windows and feels her heart sink.

"Gale, break it down," she commands her friend.

"What?" Gale says, his eyes wide.

"Get that door open _now._" Katniss pushes him aside and tries the doorknob. It turns and the door swings open easily.

Somehow, this is even worse to the three of them. More foreboding. They each take a couple of steps into the apartment and it becomes that much clearer that something is terribly, terribly wrong.

Chairs are toppled over. Lamps and the television are broken. The coffee and end tables are overturned. A bloodied handled butcher knife lies on the living area floor, not too far from where pillows and the stuffing of the couch are sliced open and scattered about the room.

Madge cries out, "I'm going to be sick!" Gale follows her to the bathroom to hold her hair as she wretches. Katniss picks her way slowly to the middle of the big room and kneels down to look underneath the couch, expecting to see a pair of yellow eyes looking at her in panic. She sees nothing.

"Sammy?" she calls out softly. There aren't many places, even in the mess, that the cat could be hiding. Katniss expects to find her almost immediately, is surprised that she hasn't heard her mewing pathetically from on top of the fridge or behind the toilet, upset that her living quarters are such a mess and her human is nowhere to be seen. "Sammy?"

It takes her longer than it should to notice the broken back window. Suddenly she feels a bit like Madge, the need to vomit rising high in her throat. She goes into the bathroom where she sees Gale squatting next to Madge at the toilet, holding on to her tightly and whispering gently into her ear. She doesn't need to be any closer to the pair to know that Madge is crying hysterically.

"His cat is gone. Sammy…she was his father's. If something happened to her, he could have…I don't know, gotten angry and taken it out on the furniture, maybe?" Katniss says to Gale hopefully.

"I don't think he'd do this to everything just because his cat got out, Catnip," Gale says, rocking Madge gently.

"Maybe he was burgled…" Katniss chokes out.

"Maybe…" Gale says reluctantly.

"He's d-drunk, Katniss. I know it-t. He drank last night. That's w-why he's not answering his phone," Madge says between sobs. Her voice is hard. Katniss wonders who she's blaming.

"You don't know that for sure, baby," Gale says soothingly to his wife, who only begins to cry harder.

"I'm going to look for him," Katniss says suddenly.

"Wait, Catnip, we'll all drive…" Gale calls after her.

"No…I want to walk. Maybe he took a walk and is close by. C-call me if you…" Katniss stammers out. From his perch behind his wife, Gale nods.

On a whim, Katniss walks behind the back of the apartment building. She looks up and locates the broken window of her boyfriend's apartment and notices bits of shattered glass scattered in the bushes below. _Peeta broke it_, she realizes. _How? His fist? Is that where the blood on that knife came from? Or did he throw something?_

An ascension chime rings out suddenly. Peeta's phone's ringtone, she realizes quickly. She follows the sound, and locates the object underneath one of the juniper shrubs. She manages to close her hand around it before the ringing stops. The display is completely shattered, almost to the point she can't read anything that pops up on the screen. She looks back up at the window and marvels that it's operational at all. _Peeta threw it through the glass. That's why he hasn't answered._

She clutches the device like a lifeline to her boyfriend and scampers off in the opposite direction. She has to find him. If she can, she should try to find Sammy, too.

_Wait for me, Peeta. I'm coming. I'll be there soon, I promise._

* * *

The exact location of his old drinking haunt wasn't something Peeta talked about a whole lot, but Madge has a vague idea of where the Sword and Ax is in relation to Peeta's apartment. After she's calm enough to actually be able to see straight, she and Gale head there. In the front seat, Madge brings her knees up to her chest and nervously twirls her engagement and wedding rings around on her finger. She can't decide what would be worse—finding Peeta's car parked there and knowing exactly where he has been all night, or not finding it and being back at square one for where to look for him.

She wants to wretch again when, indeed, his car sits cold in one of the parking spaces outside the bar. She feels like such an utter, utter failure—she is supposed to be there for him. She is supposed to be his confidant, the first person he'd turn to if he ever wanted to drink again, and she hasn't been able to prevent this. He is strong, but he wasn't strong enough in some moment yesterday and now almost nine months of sobriety are gone by the wayside. Nine months. She already has his chip ready for him. Now she'll have to take the ones he'd already earned back from him. They'll have to start all over.

This is the point in her day that Madge wants a drink the most. And it would have be so convenient, too, what with her walking with purpose towards the front door of the bar.

"Sorry, hon, we're not open quite yet. Come back in twenty minutes?" a short brunette says to Madge as she strides through the door.

"Is anyone here right now that may have been here yesterday afternoon or early evening? I need to know if someone came in here, if anyone yesterday saw him. It's really important," Madge says flatly. The woman raises an eyebrow but nods her head.

"I was on the bar from four to midnight last night. Pretty good with faces. Who you looking for?" the woman says.

Madge scrolls quickly through her pictures for the most recent picture she has of Peeta. One with Katniss in his arms, a wide smile plastered across his face. Happy. Sober. Not at all like whatever mess they might be in today.

_Failure. Complete failure. You failed him, Madge. How dare you?_

"The man in this shot. His name is Peeta, Peeta Mellark. Do you recognize him?" Madge says quickly.

The brunette whistles lowly. "Oh yeah. He stumbled in around…oh, six-ish, if I remember right. He was with a couple of my regulars. They asked for some bandages for his hand, had some nasty cut on it, then started pouring Jack and Seagrams down his throat. Boy drinks like a fish, too," the woman says.

"Who were the regulars?" Gale demands, his arm tightening around his wife's waist.

"Cato…mmm, I forget his last name. Magnussen, maybe? And Jo, Jo Mason. Anything else you guys need, you do need to come back in twenty minutes when we open for lunch, though," the brunette says.

"I can't imagine anyone here this morning was here until last call, were they?" Gale asks brusquely, not willing to leave until they have a better idea where Peeta might have gone. The girl is fitting her name tag on her blouse—Clove, it reads—and rolls her eyes quickly.

"No such luck. Cashmere and Glimmer are the closers. Won't be in until six, maybe seven tonight. Sorry to be a bitch, really, but I need to kick you out to finish up here before our lunch rush starts. Hope I was helpful," Clove says impatiently. Gale tugs at Madge's waist and nods to the woman.

"Sure, thanks. Appreciate it," he tells the stranger as he leads Madge back to the car. She lights a cigarette for herself as soon as they're out the door.

"I failed him, Gale. How could I be so naive to not realize how much he'd need me yesterday?" she says hollowly, sucking greedily on the stick between her lips. Gale rubs the back of his neck and shakes his head. He doesn't smoke, but one of his wife's cigarettes looks almost calming enough for him to pick up the habit right about now.

"This isn't your fault, honey. You know you can only do what he asks you to do. You can't force him. This was a mistake he was gonna make on his own, regardless of what you tried to do to help him," he says, holding her close to his chest. He tries to sort out in his head where they might go looking next, wondering how to find these infamous drinking buddies Peeta hasn't seen in so many months to figure out what the hell happened last night.

Then his phone rings.

* * *

Hazelle Hawthorne had worked a double last night. All she wants to do now is go home and go to sleep.

Cinna, her morning relief, greets her with a cup of coffee as is their tradition. She sips it happily as she gives him a brief rundown of the patients admitted to the ER the night previous, starting with the ones who need to be released first and progressing from there. She's midway through her list of next hour meds dosages when the doors of the emergency room burst open, and a pair of paramedics wheel in a gurney.

"Possible overdose, alcohol or other. Blew a .20 BAC out in the field and has been in and out of consciousness ever since. Might need his stomach pumped," one of the paramedics says quickly to the doctor who rushes over to them.

"Where was he?" Dr. Heavensbee says quickly, pulling out a tiny flashlight and shining it into the new patient's eyes.

"Backseat of a Jeep that had rolled into a ditch a couple of miles outside of town. Pretty obvious he wasn't driving it since he was buckled in the back, but there wasn't a driver or front seat passenger anywhere nearby. Must have run after the car stopped moving. If they were anything like him they were either drunk as hell or high on something," the second paramedic says.

"Looks like he's got a fractured hand as well, Doc. Anything else you need from us?" the first paramedic says. Dr. Heavensbee calls over Cinna quickly and starts a new chart for the young man.

"Get a name?" Dr. Heavensbee asks.

"Name on his license says Mellark. Peeta."

Just like that, Hazelle Hawthorne feels like she's being trampled by elephants. She rushes over to the gurney because she has to see it to be sure.

"Mr. Mellark? I'm Doctor Heavensbee. You're in the emergency room, can you tell me what happened?" the man says. The patient in front of him is wide eyed and slack jawed. But as soon as Hazelle gets close enough she knows for certain it is who the driver's license says it is.

"Peeta!" she cries out, walking with the gurney next as it rolls onto an exam room. "Peeta, it's Hazelle! Can you say something, honey?"

"Hazelle, you know this boy?" Cinna says quickly.

"He's my daughter-in-law's best friend. Peeta, can you say something? Anything? It's Hazelle, honey, I'm here," she continues. The boy blinks up at her and his lips begin to quiver.

"Hazelle, you know you can't be on his chart if you know him…hospital policy," Dr. Heavenbee says.

"Then don't put me on his chart! I'm not leaving him!" she yelps. They transfer him onto a hospital table and the paramedics shuffle out. Hazelle holds his head in her hands and challenges Heavensbee with her eyes to make her leave.

"Fine, Hazelle, then keep him calm. Cinna, I need that tube. Let's go ahead and get whatever is left in his stomach out now and start him on fluids," Heavensbee commands at Cinna. Hazelle strokes the matted blonde curls around the boy's temples and smiles down at him sadly.

"H-Haz…Hazelle?" Peeta croaks out finally.

"Yes, Peeta. It's okay. You're gonna be okay. I'm here," she says to him sweetly.

A second later she has to help Cinna restrain him when he begins to struggle as the intern on Heavensbee's service shoves the tube down his throat to begin pumping his stomach. Tears fill his foggy blue eyes as he begins to cry. Hazelle can't stop herself from joining him. By the time they have him sedated properly and are allowing the machinery do its work, Hazelle finally steps away from the boy. She shrinks against the wall outside his temporary room and puts her head in her hands. Cinna steps out a moment later.

"You alright there, Haze?" he asks gently.

"He's…he's an alcoholic, Cinna. He's been sober for almost nine months…and now this…" she says, on the verge of tears. "And now I have to call my son and get on the phone with his wife, and tell her that her friend is in the ER with alcohol poisoning and a broken hand and a concussion…and I don't know how to have that conversation."

Cinna puts his arm around his co-worker and gives her a gentle squeeze. She stops shaking a minute or two later and pats his cheek gently.

"I'm just going to go home and shower. I'll be right back to see him though, if he wakes up before…" she says sadly, pulling her phone out of her pocket.

"I'll let him know. I'll look out for him, Haze—he'll be okay."

Hazelle scrolls to her oldest son's number and presses send.

* * *

"Momma?" Gale says when he answers his mother's call.

"Hi baby," his mother squeaks out.

"Momma, I'm so glad you called…listen, I need you to help me get ahold of Rory and Vick. I know they're both working today, but Peeta…" he begins.

"I know what happened to Peeta, baby. Do you?" Hazelle tells him. Gale feels like he's been punched in the gut. His mother is just finishing a shift at the hospital. That means Peeta is there.

"What do you know?" he says quietly, then listens intently as his mother explains everything. He gulps and nods. Next to him in the passenger seat, Madge begins to cry again.

"Put me on with Madge, Gale. I want to be the one to tell her," Hazelle says to her son finally.

"No need, Momma. She already knows. We'll meet you back there," Gale says. He takes the next U-turn he can and steers them towards the hospital.

* * *

Somehow, Katniss ends up at the coffee house. Her body feels heavy and numb by the time she gets there. Her mind is on autopilot. When she walks through the door, her body immediately goes through the motions of being at work, stepping behind the counter and starting to grind espresso beans through a machine.

"Kat? Whatcha doin', babe?" Serenity says, her mouth slightly ajar at her coworker's presence on a day she's supposed to be off.

"I…I…" Katniss stammers. Finally she realizes what she's doing and takes off out the back door. Serenity tells Carl at the bar she'll be back and goes after the girl, finding her doubled over in the parking area behind the building.

"What's wrong, Kat? You look like hell, if you don't mind me saying…what can I help with? What's up?" Serenity says, rubbing the girl's back lightly.

"Has Peeta ever told you, Ren? About what's wrong with him?" Katniss says hollowly.

"What? No! Is he sick? What's wrong with him?" the other woman demands.

"No. I mean yes. I mean…he's an alcoholic, Ren. And if the state of his apartment and his smashed up cell phone and his current state of being missing is any indication, he drank last night. I told him to come to my place and stay with me, but instead he went out drinking…and now I don't know whether he's alive or dead, how much he had, if he's sick, if he's hurt, and all I can think about is the fact that I never told him 'I love you, too' when he told me he loved me. What if I never get a chance to tell him that, Ren? What the fuck am I gonna do if that doesn't happen?" Katniss says, her voice getting more and more erratic as her statement continues. Finally Serenity pulls her into her arms and hugs her tightly, shushing her softly and patting the silky hair in the braid over her right shoulder.

"It'll be okay, Kat. I'm sure…Peeta drinks? God, I never would have guessed…where have you looked? Who's helping you? I'm sure I can leave a few minutes early and come help," Serenity says calmly. The look on Katniss's face is desperate, imploring, and grateful all at once. Before she gets a chance to answer, however, her phone rings. She presses it to her ear quickly and a moment later, she begins to hyperventilate. The other woman forces the phone out of her hand and cups her own hands over the girl's nose and mouth until her breathing evens out and her eyes clear.

"Was that about him?" she asks tentatively.

Katniss nods. "He's…he's in the hospital," she murmurs.

"But he's…"

"Yeah…he's alive."

* * *

They meet in the waiting room of the hospital. Annie and Finnick are still in their work uniforms. Hazelle is wearing regular street clothes on the other side of Madge from Gale. Madge looks like she's in a daze. Rory, Vick, and Posy sit near their mother, taping away at their cell phones for something to do, but look at Katniss sadly when she comes in. Hazelle gets up and gathers Katniss to her, but she doesn't feel much like hugging the woman back. She sits on the corner of a short table in front of Madge and looks at her head on.

"Go ahead and say it. You know you want to," Katniss says.

Madge's eyes narrow. "You should have told me after he called you last night. You should have gone over to his place on your way home and checked on him."

Katniss swallows hard. "You shouldn't have let him be alone all day. I was _at work_, Madge. What were you doing that you couldn't be there for him?"

"Enough, both of you," Gale snaps. "This isn't either of your faults and you both know it."

"I…don't think that's the point, Gale," Finnick says gently.

"He's right," Madge says, her eyes flitting away from Katniss's and the dazed state returning to her features.

"Just figured we'd get that out of the way, that's all," Katniss says before she resettles into a chair next to Serenity. Her foot bounces up and down nervously as they wait for…whatever it is they're waiting for.

Hazelle gets up after a few minutes more and shuffles over to an out-of-breath blonde woman. Katniss doesn't need to examine her closely to realize this is Peeta's mother. She vaguely remembers seeing her once, maybe twice as a child, but the woman left no discernible impression on her. Now, however, the woman is looking at her straight on. There's a very tentative smile on her face as she walks over to her.

"I'd recognize you anywhere, Katniss. I'm just sorry we had to meet like this," the woman says. Katniss gingerly shakes her hand.

"Me too," she says quietly. Madge gives the woman an awkward hug a minute later and they go a door, presumably to smoke together. Katniss takes another minute to look over at her friends. Annie, Finnick, and Gale all look so, so tired. She feels that way, too. What she wouldn't do to stretch out next to Peeta in his hospital bed and sleep until the morning, just enjoying the feeling of him next to her. She doesn't care suddenly what state she has him in—she's never letting him go again. She needs him. She wants him. She loves him.

"Cinna?" Hazelle says a minute later when a male nurse enters the waiting room and strides up to her with a purpose. "Is he…?"

"Yeah, he's awake. We've got him on fluids to begin the detoxing process. I offered to send in one of the folks from the outpatient SA program, but he's refusing until he can talk to his mother. Is she here yet?"

"She's out with my daughter-in-law smoking. Rory, go get Armarna, will you?" Hazelle says quickly. Katniss looks at her imploringly. "What about anyone else? Is he willing to have visitors?"

"No. Just his mother. He says he doesn't want to see anyone else. Sorry, I know that's tough to hear sometimes," the nurse called Cinna says. Hazelle nods it off like it doesn't matter. Finnick, Annie, and Gale don't look like they're surprised. But Katniss is furious.

_I thought he loved me. Why doesn't he want to see me? Why won't he let me look at him and make sure he's alright?_

As if her best friend can read her thoughts, Gale speaks to her patiently. "He's embarrassed, Katniss. He's mortified. He doesn't want to see anyone because he doesn't know how to face us. He won't even want to see Madge until after his mother calms him down. It's nothing personal."

But Katniss doesn't know how to take it anyway except personally. If she were in the hospital, Peeta would be the first person she'd want to see. How many times does she have to tell him she doesn't judge him? That she thinks he's incredibly brave? That she doesn't want any of the outs he's tried to give her?

She doesn't want an out. But she does want out of that waiting room.

She's on her feet and down the hall faster than Gale and Serenity's voices call out to her. A hot summer wind hits her face. Miles and miles away from this moment, this hospital, every terrible thing that's happened over the last 24 hours is a cabin in the woods where she'd made love to her wonderful boyfriend and swam naked in a lake with him. Her legs pump wildly underneath her body as she debates how long it would take her to run there.


	18. Forgive My Sins

**A/N: Thank you for sticking through the angst-fest that was last Saturday's double post. While that certainly doesn't stop entirely over the next 10-odd chapters, Peeta is far from a hopeless cause for the rest of this fic. Thanks for believing in him. It completely floors me how much some of you love this story, and while I feel like I say it all the time, thank you from the bottom of my heart for the thoughtful reviews you leave behind (particularly to folks who've reviewed nearly every chapter...you are the Kings and Queens of my fangirly heart).**

**I post extra stuff relating to this story on the Tumblr blog alltherightfriendsff dot tumblr dot com, and would love to hang out with all of you there, even those who don't have a Tumblr account (it accepts anonymous asks). **

**And somehow I've lapsed saying it the last few chapters - _sohypothetically_, thank you a million times over for being the greatest beta (not to mention a fabulous friend and confidante) I could ask for, and for all your hard work on this and the last several chapters. ILY!**

**Happy reading, everyone. **

* * *

_We both know I cannot come home._

_The water rose faster than I could run._

_All my love has bruised my grieving bones._

_Forgive my sins for I haven't found God_

_And I don't know when I can trust my heart_

_But you were my rock never my stepping stone…_

…_She said I'll be your rock when the water comes_

_Don't waste your life on the stepping stones._

-A Silent Film

* * *

I can't remember a time my head hurt more than it does right now. Actually, everything hurts. It hurts to breathe. It hurts to move my right hand. It hurts to blink my eyes.

This is what I deserve. This is Peeta Mellark's New Rock Bottom Moment. I imagine I could probably figure out a way to fuck myself over harder than I did last night, but it would probably take planning. And I'm clearly more of a fly-by-the-seat-of-my-pants relapser.

I probably shouldn't find that funny. But it's that or cry and I'm too dehydrated to cry.

"Mr. Mellark?" the male nurse I'm getting to know as Cinna says to me. He's talking quietly, which I'm grateful for, but I can still hear every word clearly. "Dr. Heavensbee asked me to let you know that you'll be walking out of here tomorrow with a broken fourth metacarpal, a strained wrist, and a minor concussion. That is, after we restore your fluid levels so your brain doesn't dry up and die from the severe case of alcohol poisoning you presented with. He's also like me to inform you that you're damn lucky that that's all."

"Thanks for not sugarcoating it," I say. I must sound sarcastic, but I actually mean it.

"He's writing you a prescription for vicodin to manage the pain. I'd be happy to fill it for you if you'd like."

"No thanks," I tell him. He looks surprised.

"You did hear me say you have a broken finger and a strained wrist, right?"

"Yes," I say. I pick up the necklace with my AA chips dangling from it. "And I'm telling you, I can't be trusted with those. As it is, I get to give all these back to my sponsor later tonight, because she has to take me through the whole process all over again. And you know what the real bitch of it is? I was less than two weeks from my 9 month chip. So I'll stick with ice and Tylenol, thanks. I don't need to add NA meetings to my schedule. Although since I'm a massage therapist with a fucked up hand, it's not like I'll be working for the next several weeks anyway."

"Suit yourself." He has no sympathy for me.

I don't have any sympathy for me, either.

"You do have a bevy of folks outside wanting to see you, though. Make sure you're okay. Hazelle Hawthorne, her kids…a pretty girl with grey eyes…"

"No," I breathe out before I can stop myself.

"Mr. Mellark?"

"It's Peeta, alright? Please don't call me 'Mr. Mellark'. Those people out there…is one of them an older lady, about Hazelle's age? Blonde hair, glasses?"

"I'd have to check, sir."

"That's my mother. I just need to see my mother. Please, don't let anyone else back here, alright? Just my mother," I tell him. My desperation is making my head hurt more. But I'll take desperation over looking Madge and Katniss in the eyes just yet. That I know I can't handle.

"If she's out there, I'll bring her in. You've got a morphine drip if the pain in your hand is too bad," Cinna tells me, pointing my attention to a small remote near my left hand. I hold it in my palm for a minute, thinking how easy it would be to push the tiny button over and over again and lose consciousness. Give myself a few more hours of peace before I have to deal with facing Madge and Katniss. Instead, I toss it aside so I'll have to look for it when I do decide I just can't handle the pain. I look down on the bandages and the brace on my injured hand and try to wiggle my good fingers. Waves of pain surge through my arm and I have to bite down on the inside of my cheek. I can't help but feel like I deserve it, all of it. I consider it my punishment for not calling Madge, for not steering the direct way towards the house instead of the ass-backwards route that lead me near the bar.

I wish I could remember more of what happened. But as I expected it would be, everything in my immediate memory is shiny after chasing after Sammy. Even Cato and Jo's faces seem to shimmer in my mind, like they're some ethereal creatures out of a dream.

I wonder where they ended up. If they're okay. I imagine someone would have told me if they'd ended up dead near the crashed car. Instead all they'd told me was the front seats were abandoned. I'm pretty sure I should be furious at them for leaving me like they did. I could have died. A broken finger could have been the least of my problems and they just fucking took off.

I know why they did it, though. And if I'd been in the front seat and been uninjured, I probably would have done the exact same thing. It makes me sick to realize that about myself.

"Oh, baby…I'm so glad to see your eyes," my mom's voice says suddenly. I snap back to attention and look her over. Her eyes are glistening and her hands are shaky.

"Mom? I'm…I'm…" I begin before the eventual emotions that I knew would hit when I saw the first member of my weird extended family begin to crash over me. "Mom, I'm sorry."

"Oh, Peeta," she says, perching on the side of my bed and throwing her arms around me. For so many years, my mother's hands coming anywhere near my face or body was a precursor to some sort of pain. Now they provide the unbelievable comfort I crave. She pulls my body up off the bed so she can fold me against her chest and strokes her fingers delicately through my hair. I realize she's crying at the same time I start to.

"You have nothing to be sorry for, baby…nothing at all. We're just so relieved you're alright," she murmurs into my ear. I shake my head back and forth to disagree with her. She pulls away and holds my face in her hands, forcing my eyes to lock on hers. "Peeta, listen to me. This is a setback. This is just a setback. This doesn't define you. This doesn't make us any less proud of you. Do you understand me?"

"But…I f-fucked up…" I choke out.

"We all fuck up, baby. That's the constant in our lives. You'll put this behind you and the next time you get to this point, you'll know better. This doesn't ruin everything, trust me. I've been there, remember?" she says, stroking my cheeks. This tiny gesture suddenly means absolutely everything. Every moment growing up when I craved a mother who didn't stink of whiskey who'd smack me as soon as look at me comes back to me in an instant and I feel every one of those feelings begin to pour out of me like water. I shake like a leaf, but she's there. She holds me tight and tells me she loves me and how sorry she is and I sob. I'm still not hydrated enough to cry proper tears, but my body convulses as sobs rip out of my chest and throat. And she's there.

"Do you have any idea, Peeta? Any idea how many people love you?" she murmurs as I begin to calm.

"W-what do you m-mean?" I ask.

"It's all I could think about when Madge called me and told me what happened. That maybe you have no idea how many people love you and want the best for you. Maybe that's my fault—I spent so many years being a terrible mother to you that I'm never sure if I'm being a decent one now, but I love you with all my heart. So many people out there—Madge, Hazelle, her kids, your friends, Katniss…

"K-Katniss doesn't love me. Not like that," I say bitterly.

"Yes, I do," a voice squeaks out. As always, she's so quiet that neither Mom nor I heard her slip into the room. But there she is, just for a moment before she slips out into the hallway again.

My heart pounds in my ears. I try to move my hand to reach out for her, tell her to wait but pain courses from my fingertip to my shoulder blade and all I manage is a low hiss. Mom finds my morphine button and taps it once lightly before making me lay back against the pillows. Just the tiniest bit of the medicine makes my eyes blur and my head slow down. Mom strokes my hair and kisses the knuckles of my left hand softly.

"Sleep now, baby…she'll be back," she whispers to me. My eyes flutter closed as much as I try to fight them, my tongue refuses to move in my mouth to object like I want to; sleep is too inviting.

_Katniss just said she loved you. If that's not enough for you, nothing ever will be._

* * *

The sun is setting in my window when I wake up again. I have a perfect view of it sinking below the horizon, bathing my hospital room with soft orange light before the purple of dusk takes over. Lights above my head flicker on automatically to provide nursing staff the light to see me clearly when they do their hourly rounds. I rub my eyes as they adjust and look over to my mother in the visitor chair next to me.

Except it's not my mother. It's Madge. Suddenly I feel two inches small.

"Peet? You're awake, huh?" she whispers. She clears her throat suddenly and sits forward, leaning her arms against her knees. "I know you said you only wanted your mom earlier but…I'm sorry, I had to see you."

"Of all the people who should be apologizing, Madge, you are decidedly not one of them in this scenario," I tell her. The hollowness in my voice is still very, very present.

She nods slowly and chews on the corner of her mouth. "I, um…I think I know better than to ask you how you're feeling but…"

"I feel like hell. I drank so much I can't remember anything past pouring the first shot down my throat and woke up with a fucked up hand. That's something of a problem in my business," I say. I shouldn't snap at her. I just can't help it.

"You were with Cato and Johanna, that much I know. Gale called the Sword and Ax and talked to the girls who closed it down last night. You guys were there until last call. One of them said she cut you all off for an hour or so because she got worried by how fast you were drinking. Might have saved your life for all you know. Your BAC was unbelievably high when you were picked up this morning," she tells me matter-of-factly as if the nurses haven't told me the exact same thing.

"Madge, I know it's your job as my sponsor to make me feel like shit because I fucked up so bad, but can you please just wait until later? Is one day of self-pity too much after hitting rock bottom _again_? If you want my chips back, they're just there," I say, pointing towards the bedside table.

She sighs and runs her fingers along her temples. "I…I don't think I can be your sponsor anymore, Peeta. I want to talk to Maysilee and find you a new one at the Our Lady of Lourdes group, but I need your permission before I talk about any of this to her," she says finally.

"You…what? Madge…"

"You need a sponsor you can trust, one you can call anytime, day or night, whenever you feel the urge come on. How long did you feel the need for a drink coming on stronger and stronger yesterday without calling me?" she asks point blank. I gape at her. Apparently that's all she needed to know. "I'm not giving up on you, Peeta. I'll never, ever give up on you. You're my best friend and I love you more than you probably understand right now. But I can't have you fail again under my watch. I won't be able to take it. I'm sorry, I really am…"

"You can't, Madge. There isn't anyone in the world I trust more than you. You have to know that," I tell her, sitting up a little so I can reach my good hand out for her.

"You didn't call me yesterday, Peeta. If you trust me so much, why didn't you call? Why didn't you come over after you broke your phone? Why didn't you just let me stay with you to make sure—"

"Because it was my mistake to make, Madge! I thought I was doing the right thing, I really did, but everything just fucking snowballed on me all at once. And I almost called you, but I still have you as Undersee in my phone so you're at the very end of my contact list…I got so frustrated when Annie and Katniss didn't answer and Sammy was crying and I know it was because of my Dad and I started to miss him so much I couldn't breathe or think straight—"

It's her turn to cut me off. She pivots off the chair and onto the side of my bed so quickly I barely see it until her hand is on the side of my face. Tears glisten on her cheeks. "I'm so sorry…I wish I'd been there…"

"I was on my way over, I swear it. But Sammy got out and ran away, I guess because I scared her so bad—God, she's probably been hit by a car by now—and then I sort of fucked up my place…"

"I know it. We saw it this morning," she tells me calmly. Her fingers are clenched over mine.

"I went outside to smoke and try to calm down but I left the door open and she ran off. I got in my car because I was looking for her and it just…I drove past the bar…"

"And Cato and Johanna were already there?" she guesses.

I nod slowly. "Please, Madge…please don't give up on me. You're my best friend and you're the only sponsor I want. I can't try this again without you, please…"

Her arms wrap around my neck so tightly it's hard to breathe. I hope that means she's not abandoning me. Because if Madge abandons me, I might as well give up here and now. And I don't want to give up. She pulls away a moment later and wipes her eyes quickly. "There's something else, Peet, and I don't know how to tell you this but Hazelle thought it would be best coming from me and not her…it's, um, it's about Cato and Johanna…"

I feel like all the air gets sucked out of my lungs all at once. "Did they find them? Are they okay?"

I know the second that Madge looks into my eyes that I'm going to hate this answer.

"They came in to the hospital a little bit ago. Cato…he was vomiting blood and Johanna was still drunk from yesterday so they both got admitted—Hazelle admitted them, actually, and you're listed as Cato's emergency contact so she had to…"

"What's wrong with him that they needed a…"

She gulps. I feel like I'm falling.

"He…he was hurt worse than he realized in that crash this morning, way more than either of you were. He and Johanna tried to go home and sleep it off, but all that did was make his body cope with his injuries more. Something about how he was jostled around or how he landed during the crash or something, but he had massive internal bleeding. If he'd gotten help right away he'd probably…Peeta, I'm so sorry, but Cato's dead," she says.

This time I don't need the morphine to knock me out. My eyes roll back in my head entirely on their own and I'm out a second later.

* * *

My mom is back when I come to again. Her boyfriend, Chaff, is with her. Of all the ways I'd want to meet this guy, me being in a hospital bed after a relapse is at the absolute bottom of the list. But Mom explains that Chaff is a lawyer and the police are waiting to talk to me. It sinks in again that Cato is dead.

Cato was flawed in a thousand different ways. He was an unapologetic alcoholic, obviously. He was notorious about sleeping around before he and Jo got involved and I had my suspicions that he wasn't entirely faithful to her after the fact, either. He was loud and crass and got into way more fights than he should have…but he was still a human being. He had moments of being a good, kind man and a true friend.

_He, like Gale, called me 'brother'._

And he's just…gone.

Chaff tells me I don't have to answer any questions at all if I don't want to, but if I decline, the police will likely try to question me again in the future about the events of the evening.

"I don't remember anything. Really," I tell him.

"I'm sure you don't. But the police want answers. Someone died, Peeta. They need to know if they're going to prosecute Ms. Mason for manslaughter or murder. Because you were there, you're a key witness," Chaff explains patiently. My mother grips my hand tightly.

Johanna might be many things, but she isn't a murderer. She loved Cato…in their weird way, they were a wonderful couple. She must be destroyed right now. Utterly, utterly destroyed. Maybe my heart is too full of compassion, but I want to see her. I want make sure she's surviving. But mostly, I don't want to say anything that will get her thrown in prison for the rest of her life, because she isn't a murderer. She's just a drunk.

_Few things might sober her up better than this, _I think sardonically. I hate myself for thinking it, though.

"I don't want to testify against my friend. She messed up, but she didn't mean for anything bad to happen. She didn't know any better," I tell Chaff.

"She's going to be tried, Peeta. That's inevitable. If you can remember anything, it might go a long way in helping make sure she gets the state-minimum as opposed to something much more extreme," he tells me.

I nod slowly, still trying to let everything sink in. Two police officers enter and take my statement. I tell them what my blood alcohol level was when I was brought in as a precursor for why I remember so little. They remind me, as Chaff said they would, that anything I remember will become crucial in Johanna's case. I promise to call them if I remember anything else. I feel ill by the time they leave. Chaff shakes my (not broken) hand before he leaves, but Mom stays with me.

"I know that's a lot to take in, baby…but you did so well," she tells me, smoothing my hair behind my ears.

"I…Mom, I feel like it's my fault," I gasp as soon as the realization hits me. I feel like a barrel of bricks has landed on my chest.

"How could that possibly be, baby? You weren't driving that car," she says.

"But I was there. Who knows what they would have done, where they would or wouldn't have gone if I wasn't there…Mom…" I begin. I'm gasping for breath by the time I say the final word (a word that almost had an extra pair of letters at the end—but I can't remember the last time my mother was 'Mommy', even, and especially when, I was upset).

Mom pushes a button for a nurse when she realizes she can't calm me down. Cinna and Hazelle both run in a moment later. Cinna pulls a paper bag out of nowhere and puts it over my nose and mouth. I'm barely calm when Hazelle slips an oxygen mask over my face and grasps my hand. I might be imagining the wince on my mother's face when I grip her fingers tightly with my own. Cinna takes my blood pressure and pulse before making a note in my chart and leaving me alone with my mother and Hazelle.

"He…he thinks what happened to Cato is his fault," my mother explains to the other woman after a minute of tense silence. Hazelle tsks her tongue and shakes her head.

"Peeta, don't think that. Not for a second. With the things you told Madge and Gale and I about them, something like this was bound to happen sooner or later. It's a miracle you and Johanna weren't more seriously hurt. Don't beat yourself up over this, sweetheart. This was in no way your fault," Hazelle says. I feel like a betrayer for believing her over my mother, so I turn to Mom and search her face with my eyes.

"It's true, baby. You should mourn your friend. But don't blame yourself, okay?" she tells me.

Hazelle removes the oxygen mask a minute later and rechecks my vitals. In the hallway, a bell chimes and a mechanical voice alerts the entire hospital that visiting hours are over.

"Armarna, I can get you a chair if you'd like to stay…" Hazelle begins.

"Um…baby, do you want me to stay?" she asks me again.

A part of me does. But a decidedly different part wants _everyone_ to go away.

"You don't have to, Mom. I'm alright," I tell her. She seems satisfied by this. She kisses my forehead gingerly and heads towards the door.

"I'm on until four, Peeta. Ring if you need anything at all, alright?" Hazelle says a moment later before she leaves as well. I nod and thank her politely. The words seem too simple a phrase for everything the Hawthorne clan has done for me over the last nine months.

_Nine months. You should be getting your chip in two weeks, you know._

Shut up, Brain.

_But you won't. Not until you go through it all again._

Shut _up_, Brain.

_One night of drunken stupor. You can't remember any of it. And Cato's dead. Was it worth it? Was it worth letting everything go to hell just for that one drink? That one drink that turned into two…turned into five…turned into…_

"Shut up, shut up, shut up!" I cry out, clamping my hands over my ears. I pull them back down a second later when I realize I'm talking to no one. A voice in my head. That voice that was suspiciously absent this time yesterday.

"What fucking good are you?" I say to it. "Weren't even around when I needed you to tell me to drive away. Go find Madge and Katniss. Get the fuck away from the bar. Where were you, Conscience, huh? Fuck you."

_Fuck _you_, Peeta. You did this to yourself. You were going to do it no matter what anyone said. You could have been sitting between Madge and Katniss all day long and you would have figured out where Madge keeps the rubbing alcohol and gotten into it. Fuck you._

My jaw trembles. I need to feel _anything _else other than this.

I squeeze my right hand as much as the brace will allow. Waves of pain shoot up to the side of my neck and I groan out in agony. _Fuck _that hurt.

I do it again. And again. And again, until tears stream down my face from how badly it fucking hurts. I know the morphine button is nearby, but I don't press it. I cling to the pain, revel in it, even. I _need_ it. I _deserve_ it. And focusing on that makes me want to throw something against the wall slightly less.

_Why the hell are you thinking about throwing things against the wall? Throwing things _period_? Remember that dominant hand of yours? The one you use to wipe your ass and give those massages that are your livelihood? For all you know that little stunt could be producing irreversible nerve damage. You ever want to work again, lay off that shit before you fuck that up, too._

Jesus, this Conscience thing is annoying. And correct.

"Fuck," I mutter, looking at my splinted hand. My fingers are tingling wildly and the beds of my fingernails are discolored. Maybe I did just mess it up more.

The thought of never being able work on Stacey, on Geena, on Angelina, on Mrs. Eleanor fills me with dread. My job isn't perfect, but I like going to work almost every day. I like my clients. I make good money. And I don't want to have to take the time off to go back to school to learn a different trade because I ruined my livelihood by completely screwing my hand. My left hand fumbles for the morphine button and I push it once quickly.

It's like I can feel the drug coursing through my veins. I know I can't get used to this. I _shouldn't _get used to this. What I said to Cinna I meant…I don't want to add NA meetings to my weeks. I've had a hard enough time convincing myself to go to AA sometimes.

_And look where that got you_.

"This isn't working," I murmur to myself as I start to doze off again. "I'm too fucked up…too mean…too angry…"

_This isn't _you_, Peeta. This is some crazed, mutated version of yourself. You are better than this. Stronger than this. _

"I miss that guy," I say, a bemused smile passing over my face as I continue to talk to myself. "'S the guy Dad thought 's cool."

_He can come back. He's not lost forever. Nothing is truly lost forever._

My pain-killer-addled brain sends me dreams of him. Of him meeting and fawning over Katniss. Of him befriending my friends. Making peace with my mother. Helping me make my peace with Bannock and Rye. And it's so nice, so sweet that I dread waking up. Waking up has its consequences. And as tired as I am, I have to face them.

_Worst. Day. Ever. _I think as I begin to wake up a few hours later. I shift around a little and realize my left arm has gone numb. I wiggle my fingers to try to restore the blood flow when I catch it out of the corner of my eye: the door to my room gently closing with a soft click of the latch catching.

"Hazelle?" I call out groggily. "Cinna?"

Nothing comes. I wiggle my hand a little more, feeling the pins and needles under my skin as my appendage wakes back up. Once it does, I scratch a spot on my chest through the flimsy hospital gown I'm wearing and yawn. All I want is to go back to sleep, but my mind is racing in such a way I'm sure it won't happen without another hit of the morphine.

I move my hand from my chest to my head to run my hand through my hair when I see it: it's long, dark, and impossibly thick. I grasp the strand of hair between my thumb and forefinger and hold it up, as if I'm wondering if it's going to bite me. Of course it won't…it's just a strand of someone's hair that got on my blankets.

Except it's not just _someone's_. I can smell mint and rosemary.

"Katniss?" I croak out towards the door. "Katniss, are you still out there?"

Silence is my only response. I brush the hair onto the floor and settle back amongst my pillows and wonder how long Katniss was curled up on my chest, comforting me while I slept. Mostly I wonder why she'd turned and left.

Eventually sleep finds me again. But my dreams are not nearly as pleasant.

* * *

Hazelle is sleeping in the chair next to my bed when I wake up the next morning. She smiles at me gently when I call out to her and leans forward to pat my hair.

"How'd you sleep?" she asks.

"Pretty crumby, actually. Save for a few hours on the morphine," I tell her.

"I think that's what that drug does the best, honestly," she says wryly. I try to smile at her, but I fail miserably.

"Hazelle…there's something you should probably know," I say slowly. She raises her eyebrows as if to tell me to continue. "I…think something else might be wrong with me. Besides the booze."

"What do you mean, sweetheart?"

"All my triggers just snowballed on me all at once. It was the day, the contact I had with my brothers, my mom…it just all hit me all at once and usually, I'm good about just calling Madge and telling her what's wrong. But instead, that day, I…I trashed my place. I felt like all this anger was bubbling over and I had to get it out. I screamed at Sammy and tore up my pillows, I broke my TV and my lamps. My phone is trashed because I threw it out the window, Hazelle. I chucked it so hard I shattered the glass. Normal people don't do that kind of stuff. Crazy people do," I tell her. Talking to her is so easy. She listens without judging. She pets my forehead and nods and is otherwise quiet until I'm done talking.

"Peeta, none of us think you're crazy," she tells me calmly.

"_I _think I'm crazy, Hazelle," I tell her. "I don't want to be. I just want to be normal. I want to get sober and stay that way. But I don't know if I can do it. I'm just…I'm scared and I'm angry and I don't want to be crazy."

She gingerly wipes away the tears that pool in the corners of my eyes. In this moment I'm unyieldingly jealous of Gale, Rory, Vick, and Posy. Hazelle has _always _been their mother. They were raised with these affectionate little touches and her soothing words. I'm just the fucking interloper that's occupying her time now instead.

"You listen to me, Peeta Mellark. You are a great many things: you're a kind man. You're smart. You have a brilliant way with words. You're good at your job. You're loyal to your friends. You make Katniss smile in a way I never thought she possibly could. And even though I'm not your mother, I love you as much as I love my own children—I truly mean that. You have your demons. You have a very real, very debilitating addiction. And you may indeed have been in a questionable mental state that night. But do you know what that makes you, Peeta? That makes you a human being. A real life, red blooded, wonderful _and _flawed human being. Do you really believe that 'normal' people aren't flawed? We're all flawed, Peeta. Some more than others. But that doesn't make you bad or abnormal. You are wonderful. And if you want to make yourself more wonderful, then I will be at your side every step of the way. You're as much a Hawthorne as the rest of us, baby. We'll take care of you," she says. Her voice stays even the entire time even as her eyes glint with tears.

"I don't deserve you all, Hazelle," I tell her.

She shakes her head. "Doesn't matter. You've got us all the same."

She presses her forehead against mine and we cry together for a long time. And then we begin to make plans.

* * *

They all walk in as I'm signing the last of my admittance paperwork. The orderly checks it one final time before giving me a curt smile. "We'll see you as soon as Dr. Heavensbee discharges you, Peeta," he says, then files discretely out of the room. My friends raise their eyebrows, but don't say anything. They must be waiting for me to speak first.

"Thanks for coming in, guys," I tell them.

Annie looks like she's close to tears. "Peeta, can I..."

"Come here," I tell her, opening my arms to her. She surges forward and throws her arms around my neck and squeezes. I feel her tremble as we hug and whisper into her ear "Don't start crying just yet, Ann. Otherwise I won't be able to get what I need to say out." She pulls away and wipes away her tears obligingly.

Finnick and Gale help themselves to the chairs by my bed. Annie and Madge stand behind them. Katniss stands idly in the corner, her posture showing signs of wanting to turn back and run right through the door. I sigh and bite my lip. "Guys...I'm so sorry," I say finally.

"Don't apologize, Peet. Not to us," Finnick says strongly.

"I need to. I need to explain myself to you all," I say.

"It's okay, brother, really. We're all just...so happy you're okay," Gale says. His voice isn't anywhere near as strong as Finn's.

"This was my fuck up. Mine alone. I'm sorry it affected you. All of you. I let you guys down." I take another deep breath because I know how hard this will be to say. And how hard it will be for them to hear. "I just wanted you guys to know...I can't expect you to go through this again. I'm starting over all the way, you know? From square-one. And it's gonna be shitty. I'm gonna be an asshole and I don't want you guys to have to deal with that. This is gonna suck. It's gonna be hard on everyone around me. You don't have to deal with it, not unless you..."

"What was that stuff you were signing?" Katniss says. She's barely audible.

"The hospital's rehab program."

Madge gasps like she is about to object. I shake my head at her. "I know I did it without a proper program last time, Madge but...clearly it didn't work."

"How long?" Katniss demands.

"A month. Starting later today when I get discharged. After that I'll be an outpatient. I'll go in every day for a few weeks, then just for groups and my UAs..." I explain. They look even more confused. I look straight at Annie and Finnick. "I talked to Effie this morning. I have to drug test out weekly to keep my job. Company policy."

"But, your hand..." Annie squeaks.

"It'll heal. It's just a broken finger and some strained tendons. I can be back at work in six weeks with some OT, but in the meantime, I have to be clean and stay clean or else Effie has to let me go."

"What are you trying to say, Peeta? Not about your hand or the program..." Gale says, his eyes narrowing slightly.

"I...I want—no, _need_ to let you all know that I have no hard feelings if this isn't something you can handle. I love every one of you, but I can't expect that you're all willing to go on this ride with me again. It's gonna be hell. I don't want to put any of you through it unnecessarily. I just—if you guys choose to walk away, I need you to do it now and not in a couple of weeks when I'm shaky and angry and the worst possible version of myself. I just think this is the best way. For all of us."

"He's trying to give you all an out, guys," Madge says.

"No, Madge, I'm letting you all have one," I say to her. The look she shoots back actually pains me. But I've thought about what she'd said yesterday good and hard—if this isn't something she can handle, I won't beg her again, even though I sorely want to.

Finnick looks around the room, focusing on all of our faces before groaning and rubbing his face. "Bullshit, Peeta. Fucking bullshit."

"Finn..." I start but he cuts me off quickly.

"No, man, fuck that. _Fuck_ that. You're my friend. You're one of my best friends and I'm not gonna bail just because you're sick. I get it, alright? This is a disease, and you're about to start your own different version of chemo or something, so you're gonna be tough to swallow for a bit. But friends don't bail because shit gets rough, not real friends. I'm not going anywhere, no matter what you say," he says, his face even more defiantly set than Madge's.

"You don't ever get to ask me to walk away, Peeta. That's not how this works," Madge says.

"Same here," Annie agrees.

I feel sobs threaten to overtake my chest. "Guys, please...I'm just saying it's maybe for the best for you not to be around me right now. For your sakes. You weren't there last time...I took leave at work, remember? You didn't see me every day; ask Gale and Madge, I was a prick, guys. People turn into pricks when they get sober, it's just what happens."

"Yeah, you were. But not because you wanted to be," Gale says. "But Peet, you're family. You're in my blood, man. I'm in as long as you're in."

"So are me and Finn, Peeta. We can handle you being an asshole. We can't handle you not being in our lives," Annie says, her voice no longer sad and shaky but incredibly determined.

"Thanks for the offer, but no thanks. We're staying put. You're not gonna shake us that easy," Finnick says. He gets up out of his chair and leans down to embrace me. It's not an awkward guy-hug. It's a proper embrace. Before I know it, they're all doing the same thing, until we're a mass of limbs and IV lines and fresh tears on all of our faces.

Except for Katniss. She stands like a statue in her spot in the corner, looking like...I have no idea what.

They pull away a second later. Suddenly the tension between Katniss and me is palpable and they all know what we need. Annie kisses my cheek and tells me she loves me. Madge squeezes my foot through my blankets. Finn and Gale clasp my shoulder one last time and tell me they'll see me soon. Then they all file out, leaving Katniss and I alone in the room, staring at one another.

"Damn you, Peeta. Why the hell don't you just believe me?" she says finally.

"Katniss..."

"No, your turn to talk is over. It's my turn. How many goddamn times do I have to tell you—I don't want a fucking out. I have wanted you from that first day at the coffee shop and you keep throwing it back in my face. When are you going to believe that I want you, Peeta, huh? What do I have to do to convince you that I'm yours? That you're mine? That I'm _in_ _this_. For real. Did you even hear me yesterday?"

"I heard you," I say sadly.

"Then believe me already. I'm not gonna try to convince you again. You're a grown man, Peeta Mellark. Just..." she begins. Then she groans and strides across the room. Her lips are on mine in an instant. Her hands tangle in my unwashed hair. Her body presses into mine like it's trying to breathe new life into my bones.

Nothing shiny about her. About this moment.

"I love you," she gasps when we finally have to come back up for air. Her silver eyes pierce my own. I'm overcome.

"Please say that again," I stammer.

"I love you, Peeta. I'm not leaving you. I love you," she says again like it's the most natural thing in the world to say.

_And there is still nothing shiny._

"I love you, too, Katniss."

"I want forever. I want you to make me cheesecake and massage my scalp and wake me up every morning. If that means I have to put up with a nasty version of you for a little while then I'll take it. I'll suck it up. Because you're it for me. Do you understand that now? Just, please...don't scare me like that again. I thought...I thought you were gonna die before I got a chance to tell you I love you and I just can't take that. So please...please don't scare me like that again."

"I-I'll try. I promise I'll try. I'm sorry..."

The idea that she was worried I might have died makes my stomach flip. I smooth her hair and murmur how sorry I am against her lips. She accepts them all and forgives me every single time. And she keeps telling me she loves me. My heart pounds every time, but in the best possible way.

But the best part is that she _stays_.


	19. You and Me and the Devil Makes Three

**This chapter is for _annieoakley1, misshoneywell, _and _megsonfire. _They'll know why. Mwah.**

**Another huge thank you to _sohypothetically, _specifically for rebeta-ing this chapter after I was enough of a goober to not back up the original edits she made. Love you to pieces, S.**

* * *

You want to know about a thing that sucks? Rehab. Rehab fucking sucks.

Despite only a trace amount of alcohol left in my system, I have to go through detox again. I wrongly thought that the days I spent detoxing in the guest room at Hazelle's house were the worst days of my life. I was mistaken, because now I've just been teased. My body had enough alcohol in it for one day to remember how much it liked it. Now my cravings are even worse, and detox is even shittier. My entire body shakes. I feel like my body temperature can't regulate itself. And I hate everyone, from the doctors and nurses that tell me I just need to keep going and it'll get better, to my father who I blame for feeling like this. And my nightmares…my nightmares are just the icing on the cake.

Eventually, that part of rehab stops sucking, only to leave room for an even suckier part: the actual therapy. Sometimes it's two sessions of group therapy, one in the morning and one in the afternoon. Sometimes it's one-on-one with the counselors or my assigned shrink. It feels like a very long, very intense AA meeting that just won't fucking end. I'm angry and sad, I miss my friends, and more than anything else I want Katniss in my bed to help chase the nightmares away, because they won't stop. But it doesn't work that way. I sleep in the lumpy twin bed alone, the sound of my crack-addict roommate's snores and occasional night-terrors simultaneously lulling me into a nasty state in between severe drowsiness and sleeplessness.

The therapist I'm assigned to, Dr. Aurelius, gives me a choice: be angry and sad quietly and live with the threat of another relapse because I haven't coped, or talk. And yell. And cry. Get it the hell out. Stop wallowing. Stop feeling sorry for myself. Talk, yell, cry, over and over, as much as I want to and need to.

I resist at first. The people in my group sessions are nice enough people, but I don't trust them. Not like I trust Madge and Finnick and Katniss. I don't want to talk to them. Dr. Aurelius points out after a week of me being tight-lipped that I didn't talk to my sponsor or my friends the day I relapsed. In fact, I made every excuse in the book for why I didn't call my sponsor, even after I promised her I would. I try to tell him he's wrong, but I know he's correct because he's just repeating back what I told him in a fit of detoxing stupor. He reiterates his point again and again: I need to make the choice. Talk or don't talk. I still don't _want_ to talk, but even I concede that not talking did a lot more harm than good.

I try, but mostly I keep my eyes trained on the ground when someone begins to yell or sob during group therapy until finally a counselor applauds them for their bravery and tenacity and encourages the rest of the group to do the same. The next session or two, whoever it was that had broken down seems…lighter. Less edgy. Smiles a little easier. I envy them that, because I'm tired of being sad and I hate that I'm so angry.

I couldn't even tell you who it was in group that made me roll my eyes and snap, but it finally happened not a day or two after that session with Dr. Aurelius. I yelled. I told whoever it was that if they honestly thought they're the only one who felt like shit all the time they could go fuck themself. That every single one of us was having a long series of some of the worst days of our lives. The counselor and everyone else just blinked at me for a long, awkward pause of a moment.

"Sorry," I said, suddenly much, much calmer. "That's just…how I feel."

It's really weird to have people applaud you after you've just called them all assholes. But apparently, that's some sort of progress.

The next time I talk, I have a little more control over my words. The time after that I have even more. I find I like talking to some of the people in group more than others. I decide my roommate is actually pretty funny once I give him a chance and get to know him. We're different, but we get along surprisingly well. As the days go by, they get less shiny. Not all the time, of course; there's plenty of shiny moments, even moments I wish were shinier so they wouldn't upset me so much.

Dr. Aurelius gives me a sketch book and tells me I can draw whatever I'd like, but I can't scribble it out or tear any of the drawings up. If I don't like one, I should just turn the page. It's supposed to be a metaphor, I think. So I do as he asks. I make my choice. I talk. I draw. I take the medicines they give me. I miss Katniss and Gale and Annie constantly, but I remember I'm not only doing this for me—this is for them, too.

Slowly but surely, it starts to make sense. And not too long after that, it's time to go home.

* * *

It's September when I'm released. Madge agrees to be my sponsor again, because I know I stand almost no chance in hell of doing this a second time over without her. Right before I'm due to go home, she sends me back the silver and red chips on my necklace, which I wear with extreme pride, even though I should be almost to my first-year medallion. I don't dwell on that, though.

Gale and Madge pick me up after I sign myself out of the program and set up my appointments for the following week when I'll be back as an outpatient. I'll go in for weekly UAs and biweekly sessions with Dr. Aurelius. I'm unbelievably grateful to see them, since I've only seen the whole group twice on visitation days since I was admitted. Gale hugs me and teases me that I'll have to gain back the weight I've lost so that Finnick doesn't win the next wrestling tussle he challenges me to. Madge sits in the backseat of the car with me, holding my hand tightly in her own while her head rests on my shoulder. We don't have to say anything, which is nice after four weeks of talking non-stop. Silence is invaluable to me, even if I know it won't last. My head is even quiet for a change.

Even though I'm glad to be out of the hospital, I'm dreading going home. I'd had to drain my savings account to pay my rent in August and send someone in to fix the broken window. My mother lent me the money to pay my utilities and bought me a new cell phone—the brand new version of the one I'd smashed in my pre-relapse rage. I scroll through it with my free hand, happy that the carrier company had been able to export my contacts, pictures, and music from the broken one. My thumb scrolls through the photos and pauses on one of Katniss and I at her graduation lunch. Her head is tucked under my chin and my eyes are gazing down at her. I feel the pangs of missing her all over again, even though I know I'm about to see her again in just a few short hours. Since it's Saturday, she, Annie, and Finnick had to work today; they'd all offered to call out so they could be there for me, but I reminded them that their lives did not start and stop at my whim. I'm a recovering alcoholic, but I'm not breakable. So they'll meet us a little later on.

Gale steers the car into my apartment parking lot. My heart thumps wildly in my chest at the thought of having to go inside my ravished place, see the actual evidence of that terrible day and relive it before I start picking up the pieces. I also know Sammy won't be there to hiss at me when I walk through the door, and that hurts even more.

"Ready, Peet?" Madge says quietly when Gale kills the ignition. I nod silently and slide out the door. My suitcase is heavy in my hands as I lead the way upstairs.

I don't know why I didn't expect it, but my jaw drops when I open the front door. There is no broken glass or upturned furniture. Every surface has been dusted, the floors vacuumed, swept, and mopped. I smell a lingering pleasant odor I identify immediately as pine and sage. My convertible couch is gone, replaced instead by a futon I remember seeing in the guest bedroom at Hazelle's house. There must be twenty pillows and different blankets piled on it. The blinds are open and sun shines over every surface.

"We hope you don't mind, brother. We just didn't want you coming back to this place as it was," Gale says, rubbing his hand along the back of his head.

"It might have been more cathartic for you to clean it up yourself. I tried explaining that to Katniss, but you know she doesn't listen," Madge says, perching herself on one of the high counter's barstools.

"Katniss," I whisper. I should have known this was all her doing. My smile must be a mile wide.

"You have any idea how nasty sage bushes smell when they're being burned indoors? Ugh, Annie went through _two of them_," Gale says, helping himself to some water from my fridge, which I notice is still empty. That much I'm relieved over. I don't need my friends cleaning my place, burning sage to clear the energy of the space, _and _stocking my pantry, too, even though they did the first two out of love for me. I can still buy my own groceries.

"They're supposed to be cleansing," I explain, setting my suitcase down on my coffee table. "Clarify and reset things energetically."

"That's all well and good, but they still stink," Gale says.

Someone knocks on my door, but it swings open before any of the three of us have a chance to go over and answer it. Hazelle bustles in with Posy close on her heels and wraps me tightly in her arms.

"Welcome home, sweetie," she coos into my ears. I grin at her broadly. Then I hear it: a low, gravelly _mrroooow._

I look at Posy. I didn't notice it when she first came in, but she's holding a small animal carrier. My eyes go wide as she nudges the door closed with her foot and sets the thing on the floor. She squeezes the latch together and a very, very hesitant Sammy pads out.

"How did…" I gasp, knowing my eyes are filling with tears.

"Katniss and Serenity found her. Put up signs all over town and ads on Craigslist, searched parks and animal shelters. They'd just about given up, too, figured it was a lost cause, but then, a week ago when we were here cleaning, she wandered back and started scratching at your front door," Gale explains with a smile.

"I've been taking care of her, I hope you don't mind," Posy says with a small smile. I want to wrap her in a hug and thank her, but my dad's cat is brushing up against my ankles and mewling at me happily. I sink to the floor and pull her against my chest in a baby-hold and begin to cry into her fur.

_Thank you for coming back. Thank you for not dying. Thank you for bringing him back to me in that small way you do. Thank you, thank you, _I think over and over until she gets sick of me and skitters across the living area and hides under the futon. I wipe my tears with the back of my hand, embarrassed momentarily because I'm sure everyone is staring at me. They are, but not for the reason I suspected.

Katniss has just snuck into my apartment. And she's crying, too.

* * *

It's a gorgeous evening. The rest of the Hawthorne boys and Annie and Finnick come over with hot dogs and charcoal so we can take advantage of the couple of grill pits scattered around my complex. There's no question that the reunion is flawed—but the camaraderie amongst this strange little family of mine is still very prevalent. These people love me, relapse or no. For now, that's enough. It has to be.

Katniss never leaves my side. Her hand touches my thigh as we eat, my arm rests comfortably around her waist, our eyes lock and hold onto one another's as Annie fills me in on gossip at the spa and Posy gushes about her first two weeks as a college girl. I search her silver-grey eyes for a clue as to what she wants to say to me, but the time to say anything isn't with everyone else present. And no one really wants to leave, even after the sun goes down and the evening grows chilly. It's as if they're all trying extra hard to remind me that they're all still on my side. The funny thing is, I don't feel like they need to try—I've just accepted it as an inalienable constant, one I will appreciate to the ends of the earth. When everyone does file off, they do so with lingering hugs and murmurs of how much they missed me and how glad they are that I'm home. Madge and Gale are the last to go, and Madge searches my face for a reason to stay a little longer until I finally convince her that I really am exhausted and need some sleep. But they don't bother to ask Katniss when she'll be home; the overnight bag she'd dropped next to my suitcase on my coffee table was hint enough she had no intention of leaving unless I asked her to.

The clothes in my bag smell like the hospital, so I don't bother unpacking them. Sammy's created a nest for herself on the pile of linens on my new futon. She's skinnier than I remember her being, a hazard of living outdoors, I suppose, so I feed her leftovers and hold her on my chest as we settle in for the night. I don't question the fact that Katniss has put her own toothbrush next to mine in the bathroom. I like it there. I like her here. I don't want her to go, even as the anxiety of not knowing what tomorrow will bring outside of the confines of the rehab center grows and grows.

"It is okay that I'm staying here, right?" she asks as she pulls one of my ratty, oversized t-shirts over her head.

"Yes," I tell her. "I'll tell you if it's ever not." Sammy purrs as I stroke her third eye and curls tighter against my chest.

"She's scrappy, that cat. She had some scratches on her when she first came back, but it looks like Posy nursed her back to health," Katniss comments as she scoots over my legs to spread out next to me. Our gazes lock again and my smile is less forced. She's so lovely. She's here. I'm home. For a second, everything feels less unbearable.

"Will you do me a favor, Katniss?" I ask her suddenly. She quirks her eyebrows in response. "Don't, um...I don't know how to tell you about this last month. About everything. I want to...my shrink says I need to be open about it, talk about it freely to people who ask, but..."

"Tell me on your time, then. I won't press the matter, I promise," she says, sliding a hand along Sammy's spine. "Gale and I started going to AlAnon meetings about a week ago. Well, one. But I think we'll go again."

"How was it?"

"It was...sad. There were more kids there than I expected. Mostly teenagers. They're the ones who..." She trails off. I think back to my own realization that the reason my mother was so cruel was because of the never-ending pile of wine bottles in our trash can. I know exactly how those kids she mentions look. How they feel. It kills me that Katniss has to know this same feeling. Guilt washes over me. But she smiles and kisses me softly, resting her head on my shoulder as Sammy continues to purr like a motorboat.

"I don't know what to do tomorrow," I admit. "Sundays were double group mornings. Three hours of listening to everyone talk about how they used to hide flasks in their office desks or keep their pills in aspirin bottles in their purses so no one would suspect. They'll all do it just like normal, but I won't be there."

"No. You'll be here, with me. And you'll go to your AA meeting with your mother in the afternoon," Katniss reminds me.

"Yeah, I know. This place is so...quiet, though. My roommate there...he snored. Really, really loudly," I tell her with a soft laugh.

"I could snore if it would help," she offers, making me laugh just a little harder.

"Please don't. I just don't know how well I'll sleep. And I've realized the worse I sleep, the shorter my temper in the mornings."

"I don't mind a temper. I'll take you however I can get you."

We're quiet for a while. Sammy slinks off my chest towards her food dish and I roll to my side to nestle closer to her. She reaches above us and snaps out the light, washing the room in darkness. She kisses me, and despite it feeling like a breath of fresh air, I pull away slightly.

"I can't, Katniss. Not right now," I tell her apologetically. My heart is beating too fast with anxiety, nerves, an unquenchable thirst...I'd never be able to make love to her like this.

"I can wait," she says softly. Her fingers caress the side of my face. "And if you need me to go, I'll go. But I'll come back. I'll always come back."

"I love you," I tell her, my eyelids getting droopy.

"I love you, too," she replies.

* * *

I hoped having her next to me would stop the nightmares. But it doesn't. My body jerks awake at 2:00 am. It feels like my skin is sweating ice bullets. Every muscle in my body is trembling. Is it withdrawal or terror? Maybe both. Yes, it's definitely both.

I get up out of bed as quietly as I can, not wanting my shaking body to alert Katniss. I nearly trip over the coffee table in my effort to make it across the apartment to my bathroom. I close the door before I turn on the light and immediately grasp onto the vanity edge with both hands. I watch my knuckles turn white as my grasp gets tighter and tighter. A dull pain is shooting up my mostly healed wrist, which just makes my shaking worse.

I try to isolate the dream I'd just woken from. Figure out what happened in it that's making me like this. Was it my father? The one of watching him die? A view of my mother in the hey-day of her own addiction, using the three of us as her own personal whipping posts? What was it…_why can't I remember?_

I feel the scream rising in my throat, but I can't wake Katniss to that sort of noise. I whip around, yanking a towel off the rack behind me and ball it up against my mouth and force myself to be quiet about it. I drop it to the ground when I feel done and go back to clinging to the counter top. I press my forehead against the mirror, but that just makes me colder and I shake that much harder.

_Glass. Metal. Gasoline. Frantic whispers. "Peet! Peeta! Wake the fuck up, man! Peeta!"_

It's not in my head; not all of it, anyway. I open my eyes and shake that much harder when I see Katniss's stricken face reflected in the mirror.

"Go back to bed, Katniss!" I snap at her. I move one of my hands to the faucet for something tighter to grasp. My wrist hurts more and my formerly broken finger enters the equation and begins to throb in pain.

"Peeta…" she says again.

"I said go, Katniss! Just go away!" I yell, my voice echoing as it bounces off the walls.

She doesn't. She stares me down for a moment before she strides forward and throws her arms around my waist.

_Don't. Don't touch me now. I don't know what I'm capable of right now…_

"I love you," she says into my ear. "Stay with me."

My body quakes against hers. Tears burn my eyes. I finally have to let go of my iron grip on the sink because the pain in my hand is too much. Her fingers lock around mine and hold them to my stomach.

"Stay with me, please…" she says, her voice surprisingly steady.

"K-Katniss, I want a drink…" I gasp out.

"I know. But you…it's okay, Peeta. I'm here."

I couldn't say how long we stay like this. Maybe a few seconds. Or an entire hour. My entire body is exhausted by the time the shaking stops and I feel like I've sweated all the way through my t-shirt and shorts. Her hair where her head has been pressed against my back is matted when we finally break apart. She coaxes me out of my damp clothes, leaving them in a pile on my bathroom floor before she tugs on my hand and leads me back to bed. She perches at the end where our pillows are and pulls my head into her lap. Her fingers graze my scalp gently as I gasp for air to calm my beating heart.

"I'm so-sorry…" I murmur finally.

"Shh…don't apologize," she says.

"I s-shouldn't have yelled at y-you," I tell her.

"Shh…close your eyes and breathe, okay? Just close your eyes…"

I do as she asks. She pulls a blanket around my bare shoulders and continues to play with my hair. And then…

"_Don't you weep, pretty babe, don't you weep, pretty babe,_

_She's long gone with the red shoes on,_

_Gonna need another loving babe._

_Go to sleep little babe, go to sleep little babe,_

_You and me and the devil makes three,_

_Don't need no other lovin' babe._

_Go to sleep little babe, go to sleep little babe,_

_Come and lay bones on the alabaster stones_

_And be my everlovin' babe."_

The craving, the terror, the _everything_ begins to wane. Not forever, I know. This won't ever really end. But for now I'm almost okay. With a few more deep belly breaths, I'm asleep again. And blissfully, I don't dream.


	20. Our Silver Lining

**This chapter is dedicated to the wonderful folks who follow me on Tumblr, and who make me feel way more special than I probably am. You are fantastic and I love you all.**

**Happy reading everyone.**

* * *

_They say there's linings made of silver_

_Folded inside each raining cloud_

_Well, we need someone to deliver_

_Our silver lining now_

_And are we there yet?_

_And are we there yet?_

_And are we there yet?_

_Home, home, home_

-Ingrid Michaelson

* * *

My eyes flutter open and I realize it must be morning. Early or late, I'm not quite sure. My head aches and pain is still shooting from my finger to midway up my arm. I swipe my other hand over my eyes to clear the bleariness from them and then stretch in place.

"Morning, beloved," Katniss whispers to me. She's perched in bed next to me, Sammy curled in her lap and a book in one of her hands. She looks a little bleary-eyed herself, but she's lovely as ever. Her hair is kinked around her face and her eyes are soft as they look me over. I prop myself up on my elbow so I can lean over Sammy and kiss her, long and luxuriously and full of all the emotions my tongue is too tied up to properly communicate. Love. Appreciation. Devotion. They're all there as our lips claim one another's and our tongues slide gloriously together. It's the sort of kiss that leaves me short of breath.

"Thank you," I whisper against her lips when the kiss breaks with a gentle pop.

"I love you," she says in response. God…those words on her lips are the most glorious thing. I kiss her again and again.

Sammy darts off her lap and pads off the bed when Katniss shimmies down to curl up next to me. She tries to take my hand in hers and I wince involuntarily at the pressure.

"Sorry…it's sore from…" I begin, but I know I don't need to finish the sentence for her to understand. "Lemme just wrap it real quick."

I roll out of her arms reluctantly and fish through my bag on the coffee table. Tucked amongst my toiletries is an Ace bandage that I'm supposed to keep on whenever my hand starts to hurt. It's a clumsy, quick wrap job, but the added support soothes the aching muscles almost immediately. When I lie back she takes my hand in her own again and kisses the top of the bandage. I can feel the feather-light weight of her lips through the material and it makes me smile. A real smile. Not the pained one from last night when I felt the craving start to come on as we fell asleep the first time.

"I was gonna start a load of laundry to wash the stuff in your suitcase but I realized I had no idea where the laundry room is in this complex," she says idly, like it's the most natural thing in the world for her to do my laundry for me.

"It's in the next building over…but you don't have to do that. My wrist doesn't hurt that much," I tell her.

"I just thought I could do something for you…make your day a little easier…" she says nervously.

"You don't have to do anything but be here. If I need help I'll ask, okay?" I say. I don't mean for my voice to sound gruff.

"Promise?" she asks.

"I promise. How long have you been awake?"

"I dunno…an hour, maybe? I was gonna make coffee but…"

"Yeah…I needed to go to the store before the whole…"

"You can say it. It won't scare me away."

She wasn't the one I was worried about scaring with the word "relapse". Or maybe it'd be better described as "my monumental meltdown that lead to my eventual relapse".

"The Dark Day," I decide. She nods. It's a good descriptor, I decide. I scan the room for a functioning clock, which I read as 9:45. My mother's meeting doesn't start until 5:30. Meaning I have just shy of eight hours to pluck up the nerve I need for today. "I…a part of me just wants to stay in bed all day," I tell Katniss.

"We could. We could order in and play with Sammy and just…be. Whatever you want to do, we'll do," she tells me.

"I want to go see Johanna," I tell her so suddenly I see her visibly double-take.

"Peeta…that's probably not…"

"I'm sure it's a fucking terrible idea. But I…I don't remember anything that happened that night. One minute I had a gin and tonic in my hand, the next Hazelle was holding my head as a doctor was shoving a tube down my throat to pump my stomach. I need to know what happened," I tell her. She winces at my description of the hospital, even though I know she already knew the details.

"I can help you a little, I think," she says, climbing over me to fumble through her purse. When she comes back to bed, she bears a newspaper folio that's folded over and over. Her hand shakes slightly as she hands it to me. "I've been carrying it around because I figured…well, Madge and I both figured you'd want as many details as you could get."

I unfold the paper quickly. It's soft and a little smudged in the corners, like she's folded and unfolded it over and over again. _She probably has_, I realize as soon as I see the black and white picture of Cato staring up at me.

**Parties flee injury car crash**, the headline reads. It's not a long article and I'm not mentioned by name, but it still sends chills up and down my spine. Investigators believe Johanna's Jeep may have rolled as many as three times into the dried Capitol Creek river bed before stopping on the side Cato and I had been sitting on. Johanna was identified as the driver, her BAC well over the legal limit still by the time she got to the hospital. She was treated for minor cuts from the smashed side windows and released into police custody the next day. I'm mentioned merely as the "back seat passenger" that sustained a concussion and minor injuries to my right arm. Cato's official cause of death is listed as severe internal hemorrhaging exacerbated by lack of immediate medical attention.

"Is this all?" I ask after I reread the article for the fourth time.

"It's the only one I kept. But they're throwing the book at her pretty hard. Vehicular homicide, driving while intoxicated, fleeing the scene of an accident…she was released on bail, but under pretty strict police monitoring. I don't think you can just walk up and ring her doorbell, baby. You'd have to…I don't even know," she explains patiently. Am I imagining it, or does she look angry?

"I bet Chaff would know how to set up a meeting with her," I say mostly to myself. I begin to get up out of bed when she stops me with a hand on my arm.

"Why now?" she asks me defiantly. "You didn't ask about her once while you were in the hospital, not to any of us. I understand you want answers, but…" Her mouth suddenly rounds and her eyes grow sad. "Was that…last night, was it…"

"I don't know if it was so much a nightmare as maybe...I dunno, a flashback? It was like I was in the car after it stopped, I guess. I could hear Cato and Jo fighting, but their voices were so muted I couldn't tell which one was calling out to me and which one was trying to convince the other to climb out of the car and leave. They were my friends, Katniss…"

"They left you in the back of a totaled car, Peeta. _Friends_ don't do that."

"No. But drunks do. Particularly ones who knew they shouldn't have been driving and do so anyway. It may not be an excuse, but they weren't thinking clearly. I just…I need to know if they were gonna come back for me, or if they were gonna just leave me there to…"

She stands up and begins to pace around the room before I can finish. Wasn't this the thing that had terrified her so? The thought of me dying? I wonder if I'm being completely insensitive right now, if bringing this up when I'm less than 24 hours out of rehab is just too much for her, for us—but I can't help it. Not after that dream. Not after I screamed at her for trying to comfort me. Not after she had to sing me to sleep like a child.

When she spins back around to face me, tears well in her eyes. "Does it…does it have to be today? This is the first day I have you back. I don't know what I expected, and maybe I'm wrong to have expected anything but…it's _our_ first day. Does it have to be right now?"

I swallow hard and rub my face. If Madge were here, she'd know to ask the question. I'd answer with an unabashed Eight.

"What if I had hurt you last night?" I ask her.

Her eyes flash with something else entirely. "You didn't. You didn't even touch me until I touched _you_, remember?"

"But that isn't what I _felt,_ Katniss. You put your arms around me after I screamed at you and I remember thinking 'I don't know what I'm capable of right now'. Because I didn't. I genuinely didn't. I could have spun around and…I'd never forgive myself if these got worse and I did anything to hurt you. I wasn't myself last night and you know it. And that scared me worse than that flashback did. Didn't it scare you?"

She looks so lost. So sad. I hate doing this to her. I love her more than I can explain, but in this moment, I really wish she'd left me. I could have spared her this if she'd just walked away.

"If I see her…I'm liable to punch her in the face for what she did," she says.

"It wouldn't be any worse for her than what she's probably doing to herself," I respond. "You don't have to be there if you can't handle it. Gale or Madge could go instead and I'll be back with you the second she's answered my questions."

"And then maybe your nightmares get worse because you know the truth," she retorts bitterly.

"Maybe. Or maybe I sleep through the night. Maybe I have it in me to make love to you the way I desperately want to. Maybe it makes the urge I have right here, right now, to swallow a fifth of gin in one gulp go from an Eight to a Three. My life is all 'maybes' these days, Katniss. Remember? This doesn't get easier just because I'm home. This gets _harder_."

She sniffles as she crosses back to sit next to me. Her face is pale and her palms are clammy when her hand reaches out for mine. I kiss her knuckles softly over and over again, wanting that to be how I tell her to trust me, to stay with me, to do this for me so I have even the slightest chance in the world to be less fucked up when this is out of my way than I am in this minute.

She understands. Her head lolls on my shoulder and she sighs heavily. "Call Chaff. I'll come with you. But only if Gale and Madge come, too. They won't want you doing this alone."

"Thank you," I tell her emphatically.

"I love you," she reminds me. I wonder which one of us needs to be reminded of it more.

"I know. And I love you," I tell her and pull her in to kiss her fiercely.

_Still nothing is shiny. Thank God._

* * *

There are two more things I'm exceedingly grateful for today—first, that the spa is closed both Sunday and Monday for Labor Day, and second, that Finnick's ridiculously massive truck comfortably seats six. He pulls in front of the squat little house Johanna and Cato used to call home and kills the engine. From my seat in the back between Katniss and Madge, I re-clasp the chain my chips live on around my neck. My hands are clumsy, but I'm able to do it without any assistance. Four pairs of eyes look at me imploringly, but the only glance I return is Madge's.

"One to ten, Peet," she whispers.

"Seven," I say without missing a beat.

"We're here when you're done, brother," Gale says from the front seat. Annie and Finnick nod in agreement to this and I smile at them gratefully. I squeeze Katniss's knee. She finally raises her eyes from where they've been focused out her window and gives me a weak smile before opening the door so the pair of us can climb out. She's not going in with me, though. As Johanna's attorney, Chaff will accompany me inside. That's the deal—it's non-negotiable.

I kiss her softly before she jumps back inside the truck. My mother and Chaff get out of the car parked in front of us and stride over to me.

"I'm sorry I wasn't there when you got home yesterday, baby," Mom says as she hugs me tightly.

I pat her back with my still bandaged hand. "It's okay. Thanks for being here now," I tell her. I nod solemnly at Chaff when our embrace ends and I pull away.

"Don't expect too much, Peeta," Chaff tells me. "She's been pretty—well, she's not in a good place right now."

"I figured as much," I respond. I take the lead up the little path towards the front door and am the one to ring the doorbell. When Jo doesn't answer, he pushes the door open and guides me inside with a gentle hand on my shoulder.

"Johanna? It's Chaff," he calls out. We're met with silence.

I remember this living room. I slept off many all-nighters on the couch while Johanna and Cato fucked loudly in the bedroom, not bothering to be quiet just on my account. The room is empty and the shades are drawn tightly. Empty pizza boxes and beer bottles litter the coffee and end tables. I rub my chips through my shirt defensively.

"Hey there, Mellark," Jo's scratchy voice says from nowhere. I turn around and see her taking several sloppy steps into the living area from the bathroom. She pauses in front of us awkwardly—does she expect a hug or something? "Get you boys anything to drink? I imagine we could all use a stiff one."

"You're violating your probation agreement by drinking, Johanna," Chaff warns sternly. She laughs manically in response.

"Yeah, like a few beers in the confines of my own home are gonna be what put me in jail for the rest of my life, Chaff," she retorts. She rifles through the refrigerator and pops the cap off a bottle she finds unceremoniously before taking a long pull. I identify the label as Fat Tire—one of Cato's old favorites. I wonder if it's been in there since he was alive to have bought it last.

"How many have you had today, Jo?" I ask as if it's the most natural question in the world.

"Just enough to get my tongue loose for this little Q&A, Peet. Have a seat, why don't you?" she says, gesturing towards the couch. Neither Chaff nor I take her up on it, even after she strides between us and stretches out on the Lazy-Boy in the corner. "So…since my lawyer is here to make sure I don't further incriminate myself, why don't you ask what you came here for so I can get back to my nap?"

"I had to advise her not to answer any questions she hasn't already answered for me, Peeta. I'm sorry, but I had to," he explains to me politely. I nod quickly.

She looks like hell. Dark circles under her eyes make her look like a raccoon and her always short hair is practically buzzed all the way down to form dark brown peach fuzz on her scalp. If she came from the bathroom, it wasn't because she was showering; I can see her skin is filthy under her flimsy kimono-style robe. She crosses her legs and clears her throat, like that's supposed to be my cue to begin talking. It works.

"How many did I have that night, Jo?" I begin. My voice is rougher than I suspected it would be.

"Dunno. Six or seven shots. Four G&Ts, at least. Can't say I kept track. Cato was buying. I didn't even see the tab when he closed it out," she answers flatly before taking another pull on the bottle in her hand.

"Were we coming back here? After last call, I mean," I press.

"Fuck no. Why the hell would we be all the way out near Capitol Creek if we were coming back here? Get your head out of your ass, Peet," she slurrs. Chaff shoots her a threatening glare, but she either doesn't notice or doesn't care.

"Then where were we going?"

"Cato wanted to show you our new haunt out near the woods. We kept cold ones in the river for whenever we wanted some fresh air and a good long fuck against a tree. You know how I adore those big oaks."

_Katniss and I fucked against a tree once. But I was sober. And I told her I loved her. It was different._

"Why'd you drive? You knew how much you'd had, why the hell would you think getting behind the wheel was a good idea?"

Her face pales a little. She spits out some beer from the gap in her front teeth like a fountain. "Well, I wasn't really thinking, was I?"

I sink onto the couch so I can face her more head-on. She crosses her legs and arms defensively. "I don't remember the crash. Just bits and pieces…broken glass, the smell of gas, and you two yelling. Who yelled out for me, you or Cato?"

"Can't even distinguish our voices, eh? You call yourself our friend," she says hotly.

"I was fucked up. And I'd hit my head against the roll-bar hard enough to knock my ass out. Answer the fucking question, Jo. You remember. I know you do. All that pride about never blacking out—you remember every minute, don't you?" I say tersely. It's everything inside me not to reach over and ring her neck.

She finishes her beer in one long gulp and tosses the bottle on the floor. "The car rolled. My seatbelt cut the shit out of my tits but I didn't feel it much. Cato—" she cuts off, pain in her voice at long last at saying his name. "He said he thought his shoulder might be dislocated. But he moved easy enough. He called out to you. But your eyes were closed. It was too dark, we couldn't tell if you were bleeding. I cut the engine so that shit wouldn't blow us sky high, and…"

"Go on, Johanna," Chaff says, resting his hand on my shoulder again.

She sniffles and rubs her hand along her nose. I wonder if she's added blow to her long list of personal aides to get through the day, or if she's genuinely getting emotional. Jo's never been emotional. Crass and funny and quick with a dirty joke—that's Johanna Mason. I've never once seen her cry, even when she chipped a tooth on the sidewalk after we bolted from a bar on 7th street after flaking out on our tab.

"He kept screaming at you, but you weren't moving. I told him we needed to get the fuck out of there. Call the cops once we were far enough away that they couldn't nab us, send an ambulance to make sure you were okay. He told me I was being a bitch, that you were our friend and you needed help. He tried to climb back there to haul you out, but I told him—told him maybe you'd snapped your neck or something. Moving you would be worse than leaving you. I crawled out of my window 'cause it was already down before everything. A few minutes later, he did, too. And we got the fuck out of there. Flagged down a truck and got the guy to give us a ride to town. We were gonna call the ambulance, like I said. But we both left our phones in the front."

A loud, piercing ringtone floods my subconscious. An annoying Top 40 song that Cato used to tease her mercilessly about liking as much as she did. Who the hell would call her at that time of night?

"So it was you. You were willing to leave my ass behind all so you wouldn't get snatched up for drunk driving," I say. My voice sounds hollow in my throat. I can't decide if I want to cry or choke her.

"Yes, fuck! It was me! I'd just totaled my damn car, I was blitzed out of my gourd, and I figured I'd killed you! I wanted the fuck out of there!" she screams at me.

"You fucking bitch," I say as tears begin to roll down my cheeks.

"Yeah. That's me. Fuck you, Peeta. If it weren't for you we wouldn't have been out there to begin with. Cato would still be alive. You know we were gonna get married? I had my fucking dress all picked out, too. And now he's a fucking corpse in a cemetery and I'm about to get strung up for his murder," she says, her voice biting but foreign. She doesn't sound right. Not like someone who's emotional over admitting to a man that she left him for dead. Not like a grieving fiancee. Like something else I can't identify.

"Don't you fucking _dare_ try to pin this on me, Jo. _You_ drove. _You_ took off. You deserve everything they throw at you. I hope you rot in prison," I tell her before standing up and heading for the door.

"I'm fucking sorry, okay? Fuck! Peeta, I'm sorry!" she calls after me as my hand grips the doorknob.

"Fuck you, Johanna. Go to hell," I sneer and take off out the door, letting it slam behind me before I empty the contents of my stomach into her flower bed and stumble towards Finnick's truck. All five of my real friends scramble out and race towards me. Madge and Annie lock their arms around my waist to keep me upright. Tears are streaming down Katniss's cheeks and Gale is holding her struggling body back from taking off towards the house. Finnick throws open one of the doors and helps the girls get me inside.

"Get me the fuck out of here," I cry out. The doors slam behind us as they scramble in after me. I black out as Katniss's arms wrap around me and she begins to sing into my ear.

* * *

Katniss is playing with my hair when I come to. We're back in my apartment and we aren't alone. Gale's sitting in the recliner across the way, whispering back and forth with Katniss. Finnick is sitting at the counter on one of my barstools and Annie's swirling something around in a pan on the stovetop. The front door is open a crack and I can smell cigarette smoke filtering in. Sammy is flicking her tail at Gale as she purrs softly near my chest.

"Hey man…" Gale says, pointing to me as my eyes open. Katniss bends over and kisses my temple softly.

"What time is it?" I ask groggily.

"Almost 6. We know you had your meeting, but even your mom agreed you were too out of it. Madge is outside if you want to talk to her about picking up another one this week or whatever," Gale explains. I groan and rub the bridge of my nose with my thumb and forefinger. I'm so sick of this headache. I swear I've had it since I was released yesterday.

"Peeta, how do you like your eggs?" Annie calls out softly. I can sort of make out the smell of toast and bacon in the air. They must have all taken pity on me and gone to the store after all.

"'M not hungry, Ann, thanks," I say as I get up and stretch slightly before padding towards the front door. Katniss seems reluctant to let go of my hand. I give hers a soft squeeze and make a gesture of needing a cigarette before dropping it entirely. I do my best to not tell Gale, Annie, and Finnick to all fuck off as I close the door behind me—I appreciate them trying to be here for me, trying to make me feel normal on a day that went so completely to hell, but all I want is a cigarette. And a drink. _Fuck._

"Hey there," I say to Madge, who's lighting a new cigarette with the butt of her last one. She pulls it out of her lips and offers it to me immediately. If I were in a better mood, I might make a crack about girl cooties before taking it from her. As it is, I just puff away on it wildly.

"I'm sorry, Peet," she says quietly as I join her in leaning against the railing. I wonder if I came to long enough to tell them all what happened, or if they all just guessed when I ran out of there crying. I shrug my shoulders warily.

"She's a drunk and a junkie. I don't know why I expected anything better from her. Drunk and junkie obviously trumps friendship," I say bitterly. "Fuck, I can't believe I missed that meeting. It's gonna be a long sobriety attempt if I can't even get it together enough to go to my very first meeting outside rehab."

"I don't have school tomorrow on account of the holiday. There's a mid-morning one we'll go to, you and me. I think your mom'll go, too. She was so worried over you when we took off," Madge says, placing her hand lightly over mine.

"You know a few years ago, my mother being worried about me wouldn't have counted for shit. Now she's, like, my entire life," I say shaking my head.

"She's not the only one who's worried. She's just the most vocal about it. We're all worried sick over you. Gale's been sleeping like shit all week. He's got his phone turned up all the way at night so it'll wake him if you call or text or whatever. I don't think he worries about Rory, Vick, and Posy as much as he worries about you."

I know she's said this to mean the best, but it makes me feel the worst. "Yeah, well, the three of them only binge drink occasionally. They don't make a lifestyle choice around it," I sneer.

"Stop, Peeta," she snaps. She so rarely gets angry that it shocks me. "You know what I meant. He worries because he loves you as much as he loves the three of them, or has he not made that blatantly clear? Have we not all made it clear that we're here, that we're not bailing, that we're in this with you as much as we can be?"

I want to snap back with something nasty, but I can't bring myself to. "Fuck. I know. I'm sorry. I just…"

"You don't have to explain yourself to me. I remember how this feels. Just…be patient with the four of them. Especially Katniss. She's…Jesus, Peet, she's all in when it comes to you. It blows Gale's mind how much she's all in for you."

I choke on the smoke in my throat a little. I know Katniss loves me. But hearing that it shocks Gale so much makes me feel—I don't know. Proud? Amazed? Just as shocked as he is?

"I'm all in for her, too. I don't want to fuck it up because of how I am right now. That's why I needed to go see Jo. I had…a bad night last night. Woke up more or less relieving the crash and I snapped at her when she tried to comfort me through it. I just figured that if I could get some answers, it'd give me some closure, you know?"

Madge considers this and nods slowly. "You weren't wrong to think that. It just might have been a little soon, that's all."

"Yeah. I'm gathering that."

"Thanks for letting us all go with you."

"If you hadn't, I'd probably be at a bar right now. So thanks for coming."

I don't know if Madge doesn't know what to say or is just consciously not saying anything when she puts her arms around me. Our cigarettes burn down to the filter as we stay like that, watching the sun gradually sinking down below the other buildings in my complex.

"Am I ever gonna feel normal again, Madge?" I whisper to her.

"You've asked me that before, you remember? What did I tell you last time?" she responds.

"That it would take a long time. That it'd be a fight. But that I would. And that it'd make everything else totally worth it," I reply.

"The sentiment still stands. You and me…we'll get through this…"

"Thanks, Madgie."

We crumple up the now empty pack of Reds and head back inside. Gale has joined Finnick at the hightop and Katniss is sitting on the counter near the stove while Annie is scrubbing out a dish. My heart swells with pride when I remember how much these people love me. I choke back the voice that reminds me I don't deserve them.

"I've got a dishwasher for that, Ann," I tell her as I lean against the entryway. She grins at me broadly in return.

"I like the monotony of doing dishes. It's like kneading out people's backs when nothing's really wrong with them and they're just convinced that's 'where they carry all their stress'. It zens me, I guess," she explains.

"Hmm…I hate dishes. Maybe that's why I drank so damn much," I say wryly. Without meaning to, Finnick snorts out a laugh. I give him a gentle grin when everyone else stares him down for what I'm sure they think is an inappropriate outburst. "That was supposed to be a joke, guys," I tell them to take the heat off Finn for a second.

"And I thought it was sort of funny!" Finnick says sheepishly to Gale.

"It wasn't one of your better ones, baby," Katniss says, a small smile playing at the corners of her mouth.

"Yeah, well, I'll work on my humor a little bit more on less shitty days. Can we do something tonight, guys? Doesn't have to be anything exciting, really; can we snag a movie or play dumb board games or something?" I ask. A grin spreads wider across Finnick's face, like he has some sort of scary brilliant idea. I knew I could rely on him.

"Annie and I rented the shittiest slasher movie the other night, it's totally still in my truck!" he says with giddiness in his voice.

"No, no, veto! I'm not watching that shit again, I haven't slept right in three days because of it," Annie squeals, pointing ominously at Finnick.

"Not even for me, Ann?" I say gently, giving her my best puppy dog face. Being a recovering drunk does have some advantages. She groans after another twenty seconds and bangs her hands on the steel of my sink to shake the water off them.

"F_iii_ne. But I'm not drying these if that's the case," she says, throwing the towel over her shoulder in Gale and Finnick's direction.

"How did I get dragged into this?" Gale says with a groan.

"You didn't laugh at my dumb joke," I say slyly and wrap my arms around Katniss's waist where she's still perched on the counter. She wraps her arms tightly around my shoulders in return. Madge smiles at me from the other side of the kitchen as Finnick and Gale saunter over to dry the dishes Annie hands them and put them away.

_It's a start, _I decide as I kiss Katniss softly on the mouth. _It's not perfect. But it's a start._


	21. I Stayed in the Darkness with You

_I took the stars from my eyes, and then I made a map_

_And knew that somehow I could find my way back_

_Then I heard your heart beating, you were in the darkness too_

_So I stayed in the darkness with you_

_The stars, the moon, they have all been blown out_

_You left me in the dark_

_No dawn, no day, I'm always in this twilight_

_In the shadow of your heart_

-Florence and the Machine

* * *

It's been a few days since the debacle that was visiting Johanna. More than ever, though, I'm finding myself more and more appreciative of having my current group of friends in my life. Finnick always makes me laugh. Annie massages my wrist without provocation, to help prepare me to go back to work in a little over a week. Gale keeps an eye on me in a way that isn't smothering or annoying. Madge goes to every meeting I want to go to, and only partially because she still feels guilty about my relapse. Coupled with my therapy sessions with Dr. Aurelius, they do their best to keep me sane. They're real friends in every sense of the word.

And Katniss...Katniss falls asleep next to me every night. She doesn't get frustrated with my mood swings, which are annoyingly common, she strokes my hair when I wake up paralyzed by nightmares, and she constantly tells me how much she loves me. It's as though not saying it all her life has been too much for her to bear and she has to make up for it now by saying it nigh constantly. I don't mind in the slightest, of course—I'm just as quick to tell her how much I love her in return.

But despite wanting to experience the incredible bliss of her body under mine, we still haven't done more than kiss since I've been home. The lack of sleep coupled with the mild antidepressants Dr. Aurelius has me on have sort of killed my sex drive—which is agonizing when you consider how much Katniss enjoys sleeping in as little clothing as possible. I want to touch her, worship her, make love to her all night long, but my body refuses to let me. She's unendingly patient. She tucks herself into my side nightly and tells me over and over how glad she is that I'm back with her, that that's all that important. She doesn't pout or beg. She's content to let things happen on my time.

Or at least, mostly.

I wake up a little before dawn on Thursday morning. I haven't had a nightmare, but I want to feel her body against mine for a moment before I try to go back to sleep. I roll over to wrap my arms around her, but find her side of my futon empty. I sit up and rub my eyes before I realize the light in the bathroom is shining into the hallway. I wonder immediately if she's alright—she never leaves the door even slightly ajar when she's in the bathroom. Too personal, I suppose, not that I blame her. I pick my way across the floor quietly, stepping carefully over our discarded shoes and Sammy's abandoned toys, just to make sure everything is alright.

I suppose "alright" is a relative term in this scenario as soon as I push the door open. Instead of curled over the vanity, shaking and crying as she'd found me on more than one terrible night when nightmares have snapped me out of my slumber, she's perched on it in a decidedly different way. Her head lolls against the mirror, her eyes squeezed shut. Her panties dangle loosely on one of her feet, her thighs spread several inches apart. And her hand—oh, the sight of her hand between her legs, toying with the gentle pink skin of the folds of her sex makes me instantly ache for her.

Either I'm quieter than I give myself credit for, or she's so lost in the moment she doesn't hear me. Delicious little moans fall from her lips as she rubs three fingers over and over herself, spreading the dampness of her arousal all over as she goes. I swear I see her mouth form my name, as if she's fantasizing that I'm the one doing this to her. I should look away, give her this moment to herself since I haven't been able to give her any of this attention in five very long weeks, but I can't turn away. Not when she looks so sexy and vulnerable and perfect.

Her legs snap together when she hears the catch in my throat that I can't quite suppress and her cheeks flush the darkest shade of red I've ever seen.

"Peeta!" she squeals, her tone such that I can't tell immediately if she's upset I've caught her or just embarrassed that she's been caught at all. I don't know exactly why, but I snap out the light next to me and push the door farther open. The flat blue nightlight plugged into the fixture next to the sink to provide light for late-night bathroom visits shines against her nearly bare skin enough for me to still tell her hand is clamped between her legs. I bite my lip and step towards her slowly, running my hand up and down the silky skin of her thigh.

"Don't, um...don't stop. Please?" I ask her in a voice almost too husky to really be my own.

"Peeta, I don't know what to sa—wait, what?" she stammers. My fingers graze against her own and my other hand nudges her knees apart again.

"I asked you not to stop," I tell her again. That delicious noise of the catch in her throat that comes when she's hopelessly turned on invades my ears. I caress her hips lovingly and watch as her hand begins to move again, illuminated not quite as clearly by the tiny light glowing from the wall.

"O-oh…" she moans as I dig the tips of my fingers into her skin. Her hand dips lower to her slick entrance and twirls it in a little circle, bringing more of her wetness into play as she grazes her middle finger over the hood of her clit.

"God, Katniss...do you have any idea how fucking sexy you are?" I groan, feeling the not-quite foreign sensation of my cock rising in my shorts.

"I...I...Peeta, are you watching?" she pants.

"Every bit of you...God, you're gorgeous..." I tell her. I glance downwards more at myself than her for just a split second, completely shocked when I spy my erection straining against the fabric of my shorts. I groan in mild relief that my body is actually responding, actually feeling something other than withdrawal and sadness and frustration; it's everything I can do to not yank my own clothing down to my knees and pump over myself in a manner similar to what she's doing now.

Suddenly, it's as if she's read my mind. Her hands stop their glorious ministrations as she takes mine in her own and laves her tongue up and down my palm. She bends her knees up and hooks her big toes into the waistband of my shorts and clumsily tries to pull them down. My free hand helps her get the material over the swell of my cock in the front, then she releases both and locks her legs around my hips loosely—not enough to join us together, but enough to make sure our skin touches.

"Join me?" she whispers shyly. I feel a low moan rise in my throat as she laps one more time over my palm and lowers my hand over my own hardened flesh. I make a loose fist and pump over once, twice...

_Oh God_.

Both her hands return to her center. One set of fingers deftly slips past her folds as she begins to pump her digits in and out of her, the other continues to toy with the fleshy nub just above. Our eyes lock in the near darkness.

"Peeta..." she keens.

"K-Katniss," I moan in reply.

My left hand holds her hip as her body begins to tremble. After weeks of not doing this, my orgasm seems imminent, particularly coupled with the glorious noises this beautiful creature is making as she writhes underneath the pressure of her own hands. Her back bows as her fingers must graze a particularly sweet spot inside of her and she begins to pant. I lean forward enough to capture her lips with my own.

"Come for me, baby," I whisper between kisses. She shakes her head violently from side to side.

"Y-you first," she groans.

I feel my cock twitch and the pressure build and build. "To-together?" I ask as the stars begin to shower behind my eyelids.

"Yes...yes...oh, _baby_..."

Our lips lock and our elbows bump together as we each begin to race the other to our own completion. Despite our promise to get there together, I feel the sticky warmth of my own orgasm spread across my fingers a fraction of a second before she hisses out a high pitched moan of satisfaction. Our eyes open again as we each gasp for air to refill our lungs and we share a shaky laugh before we kiss again, all the more passionately now that we're sated and relieved.

"I, um…didn't mean to wake you," she says, running her slightly tacky hand up and down the curve of my stomach. I grab her hand with my clean one and bring it to my lips, tasting the sweetness of _her _delicately before I turn to wash up at the sink.

"You didn't. But that was…"

"Yeah…" she says. Even in the barely-there blue light, I can see her cheeks color again just a little.

"You don't have to be embarrassed, Katniss. Not about, you know, 'taking care' of yourself," I say, my voice a little cheekier than I meant for it to be.

"I figured it might be something you'd get upset or, I don't know, jealous about," she says quietly.

I turn off the tap and pull my shorts back up around my hips. I plant my hands delicately on her hips and press my forehead against hers. "You also don't have to walk on eggshells around me, either. Honestly…that drives me insane. Say what you want and have to say, alright? It takes more to offend me that you probably realize."

"Right. I will," she says, running her hands up and down the curves of my face gingerly. I take a step back so she can jump off the countertop and get herself in order while I pad back to bed. She's climbing in beside me a minute or two later, her head resting atop my chest.

"How long do you suppose you'll be on…you know, the pills?" she asks as she runs her fingers idly along my sides. She'd been shocked the first time she saw me take one of the anti-depressants, and maybe just a little upset with me that I didn't tell her about them to begin with. I'd managed to convince her it was a good thing…that it meant I was dealing with everything more proactively as opposed to just floating along, pretending to be happy and together without actually really being either.

"I don't know, honestly. It's kind of Dr. Aurelius's call. For whatever it's worth, I think they're helping, though. As frustrating as the side effects are, they're…well, they're helping keep me glued together. I really need that right now, Katniss," I tell her, kissing her forehead delicately.

She nods as she cuddles ever closer to me. When she clings to me like this, I can't help but wonder if she's worried I'm going to disappear all of a sudden. Go back to some dark place where I'm unreachable, where I could too easily self-destruct again. I smooth her hair and melt against her.

"You are doing better. Better than I think I expected, really," she says finally.

"I hope I can keep it up," I respond.

"You can. I genuinely believe you can. I'm here…we're all on your side."

To tell her I appreciate the conviction of her words, her certainty and belief in me—well, there aren't words strong enough to really put it into perspective how much I appreciate that.

"Wanna sleep for a little longer? I'm…well, that kind of wore me out, if you know what I mean," I say, trying to get her to smile. In the slowly rising dawn light, I see her do just that.

"Me too," she admits. "And I have to work this afternoon."

"Then let's. For a while, anyway. Shouldn't be too hard, right?"

"Right."

We murmur our I love yous as we each begin to drift off. I hope, as ever, for no nightmares, no flashbacks, just peaceful, restful sleep next to the woman I love so deeply. For a few hours anyway, it comes.

* * *

We sleep lazily until almost noon. When we rise, we shower together for the first time in I can't remember how long. Katniss has brought over a small bottle of the mint and rosemary shampoo she uses that slays my senses so and allows me to wash her hair for her. Afterwards the skin of my hands tingles slightly. I find myself unable to stop touching her, even after we've turned the water off and should be toweling down to get ready for the rest of the day. It's a little too much to hope for to get hard again in such a short amount of time, what with the mix of chemicals still churning through my bloodstream, but I can never really get enough of her moans as my own fingers dip down to her center to toy with her swollen clit. It doesn't take long for her to come hard against my hand. We kiss languidly as she regains her wits, and for now, that's just bliss.

It's the little steps, I suppose.

She has to leave for work by three, leaving me alone until I'm due to meet Madge at our regular Thursday meeting. I enjoy sitting in silence in my place these days, no music or white noise, just calm, peaceful silence. The blinds clack lightly against the window frame because I'd never bothered to completely close the one I leave open when I sleep. Sammy's found a sunspot near the kitchen and is sprawled and basking in it. It makes me smile and my fingers twitch.

It takes me a little while to find where my friends placed my sketch book when they cleaned my apartment. It turns out to be tucked into one of my kitchen drawers, probably because it had been left on my counter when I…on the Dark Day. My drawing pencils are easier to find. I perch on one of the stools at my hightop counter and gaze over at the sleeping cat as my hands begin to work entirely on their own, sketching the curves of her paws and furry spine against the soft texture of my carpet. My wrist throbs ever so slightly, but I ignore it as the lines come to life on the page. By the time I'm finished drawing her, Sammy's woken from her nap, stretched and clawed at the carpet, and is rubbing up against my ankles and mewing at me pathetically.

"You're ridiculous, Sammy, you know that?" I say to her. "I already fed you once today."

More mewing. She hops up on the counter in front of me and nudges my chest with her head and begins to purr. I can't help but remember watching her do this same thing to my dad several years ago now, when she was just barely older than a kitten.

_Guess she's claimed me,_ Dad had said that day.

"Have you claimed me now, cat?" I say idly. She mews in response.

It's hard to breathe for the emotions that suddenly course through me. I want to run out of the apartment, puff down a pack of cigarettes, get as far away from this feeling as I possibly can. But I don't; I stay put. I cry a little. I swear at my dad in my head for leaving me behind, for not waiting until I could say goodbye to him. I hug Sammy to my chest until the crying fit ends.

And then I feel a little lighter. A little less sad. A bit stronger, even. I'll have to tell Dr. Aurelius.

I toss a small handful of food into Sammy's bowl, knowing I'm probably fattening her up a bit too much by doing this, then grab my sketchbook and keys. I have somewhere to be after all.

* * *

The familiar smell of the coffee house greets me like an old friend when I walk in. Katniss is idly wiping down the counter behind the espresso bar while the guys she works Thursday nights with begin to set up the sound equipment on the makeshift stage for the open-mic night. I stride past them and catch her gaze. She smiles softly and goes to grab the mug they keep aside for me from one of the high shelves.

"I have something for you," I say quietly as I take the mug from her and fill it from the airpot next to the register.

"Oh?" she says with a sly smirk.

"Not _that_," I say with a grin. "Can you take a break and come outside with me?"

"Yeah, just give me a minute," she says. I feel her eyes watch me as I head out the door to the smoker's haven table. I lay everything out on the table, my pack of cigarettes weighing down the folded scrap of paper. I'm halfway through one when she breezes out, pulling on a cardigan over her tank top as she sits across from me.

"Everything okay?" she asks.

"Got a little time before my meeting. And I didn't want this to wait until you got back tonight," I say with a shrug. I pick up my cigarette pack and push the paper across the table at her. I watch as she unfolds it and studies it closely. She gnaws on her bottom lip for a minute before a smile spreads across her mouth.

"You drew this?" she asks without looking up.

"Yeah. You told me once I never show you my drawings, so I figured…"

It's not detailed. In fact, I'd drawn it so fast I couldn't have made it any more detailed if I'd wanted to. It's a door—it's supposed to be the door to my apartment, in fact—and the simple silhouette of a woman with a long, intricate braid fitting a key into the lock. The braid was probably the thing I got the most right.

"It's lovely, Peeta. Truly," she says. "Do I get to keep it?"

"If you'd like. Or you could have the thing in the picture. Your choice," I say with a grin.

"What thing in the…"

I set a single silver key in front of her. She chews her lip a little more.

"I'll be back at work next week, so I won't be there to let you in when you come over like I have been this week. And you don't always have to come over, you know. Any night you want to stay in your own bed as opposed to a rock-hard futon, I understand," I tell her. "But…use this whenever you'd like. I want you to."

"Peeta, I…" she begins, but doesn't seem to know what exactly to say.

"Katniss, I'm not gonna fall apart if you spend a night away. And if I do…well, that's something I have to address on my own. I want you around as much as possible. I want to continue to work through everything with you by my side, always, but I want you to have your space, too. I think it's important. So…just use this whenever you want to. When _you _want to."

She palms the key and tucks it in her pocket. She nods softly and claims my hand over the tabletop. "I will. Thank you."

I swill down the last of the coffee in my mug and stamp my cigarette out in the ashtray on the table. "Gotta get going to meet Madge for my meeting. See you later?"

"You will," she tells me. We skip the I love yous this time, because for once, they aren't necessary. We've said everything we needed to say.

* * *

**Thank you forever to beta-extraordinaire _sohypothetically _for rebeta-ing this when I was silly enough to misplace her first round of edits, and to _megsonfire_ for pre-reading. Love the crap out of you ladies.**

**For the rest of you wonderful, lovely folks: I know the last couple of chapters have been rough ones to read, and there are still a couple of those on the horizon. But please don't give up on Recovery!Peeta. He has some sunshine left in his life, I promise. Thanks for the continued support, I appreciate it more than you can possibly know.**


	22. I'll Be Here 'til the Colors Fade

**Thanks for this chapter go to _sohypothetically _for being a beta-MACHINE, _megsonfire _for pre-reading and cheerleading, and the amazing folks who sent me so much love on Tumblr when I was having some particularly dramatic moments concerning the state of this story. Sorry for the day's delay and thanks for your patience. Please enjoy. :)**

* * *

_Standing in a field of voices_

_Find shelter from the blame_

_Even if you think it's all over_

_I'll be here 'til the colors fade_

_I'll be here 'til your dying day_

_Sing loud from the rooftops_

_Come dance on the river's edge_

_Carry me over mountains to the end of love_

-Alpha Rev

* * *

"Effie?" I ask as I tap on the door to her office at the spa.

"Peeta! Come in! Come in! Oh, it's good to see you out of that splint!" my boss replies, waving for me to sit in one of the chairs across from her desk.

"It's good to not have to wear it anymore. Anyway, that's just what I wanted to come talk to you about…my OT cleared me for work officially. Just want to know when I can get back on the schedule," I tell her, handing her the note releasing me back to work. She looks it over with a smile and nods her head quickly.

"This is great news, Peeta. Do you have any idea how many people have been hounding me about when your return? I'm sure you'll have a full book your first day back. Did this Venia indicate any stipulations or restrictions she didn't jot down here?" Effie says.

"Nope. Just go easy on deep tissue sessions for a couple of weeks and ice on every break like it says there," I tell her. She clicks her impossibly long acrylic nails on her computer keyboard and turns the screen towards me.

"Pick a day, any day. I'll have you come in tomorrow if you'd like," she says. I smile at her enthusiasm to have me back on the schedule; it's actually quite flattering.

"Can I do Monday? Get my week started like a normal one?" I reply, rubbing the back of my neck. I don't want to admit that I've made plans with Gale, Madge, and Katniss to hike out to the cabin in the woods first thing Saturday morning into Sunday.

"Monday it is. I'll have Portia and Octavia call some of your particularly adamant regulars and let them know you're back," she says with a grin and clicks away a bit more on her computer before turning back to me. "Anything else on your mind, dear?"

"No, um…well, actually…I did want to say thank you. To you, specifically. I kind of figured when I called you from the hospital that morning you'd fire me flat out and…I really love my job. It would have been that much harder knowing I wouldn't have this to come back to, so thank you, Effie. I can't tell you how much I appreciate you giving me a second chance. I promise, I don't want to screw up again," I say as genuinely as I can. Her brightly painted lips purse slightly. A minute later she strides over to the door and closes it tightly. Her fingers drum against her desk when she retakes her seat.

"I'm going to tell you something that no one at this establishment knows, Peeta. I think I can trust that you'll keep it between us?" she says quietly. Her voice, usually so affected and lilting is deathly serious. My heart sinks._ Is she going to fire me after all? Surely she wouldn't…_

"Of course," I say quickly, bracing myself for an eventual impact.

"You're getting this second chance because, believe it or not, I know exactly where you're coming from. Don't think I haven't noticed those AA chips you wear on that chain under your shirt. I wore my NA chips the same way my first year of recovery," she tells me.

I know my jaw drops even though I swear I don't mean it to. "You, um…how long have…" I stammer.

"Three years this October. Blow is a hard habit to kick, not that booze is a walk in the park, I'm sure. I relapsed twice myself. Almost lost this place right out from under me between that habit and a completely obscene obsession with designer labels. I'll be paying off my debts for the rest of my life, but I'm clean and I plan to stay that way. It makes me very happy to hear that staying sober is your plan as well. It's a hard battle, Peeta. I know that. It breaks my heart to require the UAs from you, but I want to make sure you have the very best chance for your recovery being successful this time. I'm rooting for you, dear," she tells me, reaching across the desk to close her fingers around my hand.

"T-Thank you," I say.

"Please do keep this private. It's not an easy thing for me to admit," she sighs.

"I understand that. You have my word."

"Thank you."

A tap comes at her door and she calls out to whomever it is to come in. I sit back in my chair and look as at ease as someone can be when their boss just admitted their former coke-habit to them as Portia comes in and tells Effie she has a call waiting from one of our materials distributors.

"Would you excuse me, Peeta? Bon Vital has been a pain to get ahold of lately," she sighs.

"Yeah, absolutely. I'll see you Monday, Effie," I tell her with a curt nod.

"Wonderful, dear. Welcome back," she says with a wave of one manicured hand.

Portia and Octavia have noticed I'm back on the books and congratulate me before I head back out to my car. I thank them in advance for getting ahold of my regulars for me and breeze out the door, where I light a cigarette and puff away thoughtfully. I may not love Effie's tendencies towards micro-management or understand why anyone needs fingernails that long, but in this moment, she's my favorite person on the planet.

And she's given me a fantastic idea.

* * *

Madge and I are standing outside the church later that same day when I decide for certain. I instinctively start rubbing the chips on my necklace as I think it through. I can't immediately think of a good reason to back out.

"Madge…I think I'm ready," I blurt out.

She quirks her head at me. "Ready for what?"

"To talk. During the meeting."

A smile creeps across her lips. She nods curtly and stubs out her cigarette. I do the same and we walk inside decisively. People are still filing in when she tugs on Maysilee's arm and whispers quickly into her ear. The older woman beams at me proudly where I sit as Madge takes the seat next to me. The meeting progresses as always. Then she steps back and nods at me. The walk to the front takes an impossibly long time, as if I'm walking a mile instead of just a few feet. But when I'm front and center, I pretend I'm back in high school, about to present one of my well drafted and rehearsed debate speeches on whatever the topic du jour was that had nothing to do with my own life, my own battle. Just like that, the words flow out of me.

"Hi…I'm Peeta. I'm an alcoholic," I begin. Everyone greets me in kind. My right hand twitches a bit, so I stuff it into my pocket before I continue. "I…well, by this point, I was supposed to be able to say I've been sober for just over ten months. But I can't say that: I can say, however, that I haven't had a drink since July 31st. But that's partially because they don't serve a gin and tonic to a guy who was admitted to the hospital one morning with a .20 blood alcohol content. And for the record, that was supposed to be a joke, although I admit it's not a very good one.

"I hated the idea of drinking growing up. A lot of that had to do with being raised by an alcoholic mother who had a tendency to hit her sons after she'd had a few. My father, brothers, and I left right after I turned 13 and I didn't have any more contact with her in years. Too many raw feelings associated with fat lips and bruises on my ribcage. I swore to myself that I'd never, ever be that sort of person to my own children—that I'd be a man like my father, who was loving and kind, if flawed in an entirely different way. But I'd never, ever become my mother. Which was easy enough at first, because, by the time I hit high school and was getting invited to the sorts of parties my friends with college-aged siblings threw, I discovered that I really hate cheap beer and Jungle Juice. I was a pretty reliable DD until my friend's palates matured and they started offering hard liquor. I was 17 when someone poured me my first gin and tonic, but it made me feel incredibly mature, you know? I don't know if there's any better drunk than gin and tonic drunk."

A few people nod at this. I should have figured I wasn't the only G&T drinker in this bunch.

"Anyway, I kept my new love affair with that particular drink a good secret for a lot of years—I was terrified of disappointing my dad, who still hadn't ever gotten over his split with my mom. But as soon as college hit and it became easier and easier to drink as much as I wanted, it got harder and harder to keep it from my family. Dad figured it out pretty much as soon as I quit school and moved back home, but he tried to let me be an adult, let me pave my own way and get my stupid years behind me while I still had the metabolism to digest alcohol with few hangovers. I was really, really good at that, too.

"I can probably pin-point the exact day that my drinking went from problematic to completely self-destructive…because it was the day my oldest brother called me to tell me my father had passed away from a stroke he'd suffered at home. He was alone and he—" I feel my voice choke up a little, but a quick rub on my chips gets me back to it. "He went quickly. And so did my addiction. I knew I was in a bad place when my brothers accused me of becoming our mother when I got blitzed enough at his funeral to forget I'd already said my part of the eulogy and tried to give it all over again. My hands were too shaky to help them carry his casket out. I remember calling them a couple of pricks before I stormed out of their lives for what I didn't realize would probably be the last time.

"I have two bottom stories. The first involved my middle brother finding me in bed with his girlfriend—a woman who'd been cheating on him for months, granted, but he didn't know that when he bought her an engagement ring earlier that week. If I inherited our mother's ability to drink like a fish, my brother ended up with her ability to throw a mean left hook. My friend—who eventually became my wonderful sponsor as well—took me to the hospital and helped me clean up my life. I was successfully sober for the entire first half of this calendar year. I'd started dating the girl who'd been the love of my life since I was a teenager. I was quickly getting more and more successful in my job. I had good friends who'd become my family. I'd even gotten to know the sober version of my mother, who helped me more than she'll probably ever understand, despite how my childhood memories of her were tainted by her abusive tendencies. I really thought I'd done it, you know? I thought I was better.

"Then July 30th happened, which happened to be the one year anniversary of my dad's death. And I really thought I could get through the day on my own, without my sponsor, my girlfriend, my friends, meetings—none of that. And then one little thing happened. Then another. And another. Before I knew what had happened, I'd ripped up my apartment, thrown my cell phone through one of my windows, and gotten in my car to search for my runaway cat, who coincidentally had been left to me by my dad. And in searching, I stumbled across my old bar, my old drinking buddies…and that was all I needed to set me back after almost nine months. When I woke up in the ER the next morning, they were shoving a tube down my throat to pump my stomach and setting my wrist and finger which had gotten busted up in a car crash I still don't remember. My friend in the front seat died because he and the driver ran off to avoid a DUI charge. I was lucky enough to be found by a guy going fishing that next morning who noticed the car in the ditch with me still inside it. Thinking back on it, that probably wasn't so much rock-bottom as it was my own little hell on earth. It's still a difficult thing to process; one friend is gone and the other is being tried for his death, in part because I had a shitty day. That…isn't something I can really get over all the way, I don't think. Probably not ever.

"So, I'm starting all over. Instead of being close to my one-year medallion right now, I'm clawing my way through this month to re-earn my two-month. I'll be spending the next several weeks reestablishing my credibility at work and regaining the trust of my girlfriend and my friends. I understand that some of these are easier than others. And yes, I understand that all of this will be worth it once it happens. But what I don't want…what I don't ever want again is to start over like this. I so desperately want this to be the only time I relapse. I just want to win this damn battle in my head, because I still aspire to be like my dad—loving and kind and flawed and _sober_. I think I've got one or two of these parts down…now I'm just fumbling my way towards the last part, knowing full well that it's never going to be perfectly simple or easy. But I am willing to take on faith that once everything falls into place again, once I earn that illusive nine-month chip…it'll all have been worth it in its own terrible way. I don't know if that's the best I can hope for—but I'm hoping for it all the same."

Unlike Madge during the meeting prior to her wedding, I don't shrink off before everyone can applaud. I look straight into the eyes of Maysilee and the rest of the group, most of whom stand as they clap their hands together for me and in my own, quiet way, I thank them. When I do finally return to my seat after a few solemn handshakes and hugs from these near strangers, I find Madge sitting there, tears pouring from her eyes as she wraps her arms around my neck.

"You rat bastard, Peeta Mellark. I thought you were done making me cry," she whispers into my ear.

"But…but…" I stammer back.

"Oh, shut up, dummy. You know what I mean," she says with a smile. Our arms are linked for the rest of the meeting, which I'm grateful for…

…I feel so light I might float away otherwise.

* * *

Madge refuses to let me go home. It's nice that it isn't because she's worried about me, concerned that if I go home alone while Katniss is still at work I'll drink again…but because she's too excited, too proud, too giddy to not shout from the rooftops about the step I made today.

Personally, while I realize the step is significant, I don't quite understand what the humongous hoopla is. But I'm not a sponsor, so.

She calls Finnick and Annie over and sits the five us down at her dining room table for a full, formal meal, even though it's just Thai takeout. She hints around at me to tell everyone about my talk, but I wind up not needing to.

"You're in good spirits tonight, Peet…Kat give you a hummer before she headed off to work or something?" Finnick says with an impish grin on the face. Both Annie and Madge smack him on the back of his head for good measure.

"Just a good day, that's all," I tell him with a smirk. Madge looks like she wants to explode from the anticipation of waiting to let me tell them.

"Well, it's good to see…what with you going back to work on Monday and all. You know how Effie loves effervescent therapists!" Annie says with a fake smile on her face in her best imitation of our boss. She's spot on, too, and even though Gale and Madge don't know the woman except from stories, they laugh as well.

"Seriously, brother…good to see you smiling. You seem…I dunno…better, I suppose," Gale says earnestly.

"Thanks, man," I say in reply.

We wind up playing video games all evening until Katniss pulls up at almost 11:00. She's flustered when she walks in and pulls me aside forcefully when we all greet her.

"I went back to your place! Why didn't you text me and tell me you were over here?" she hisses at me. I can tell her eyes are a little bloodshot, even though I'm not entirely sure if it's because she's tired or because she's been rubbing them too much. _Like she does when she gets stressed out._

"Oh, hell, I'm sorry. Madge force-marched me over here after the meeting let out and I…sorry, baby," I tell her, stroking her hair gingerly. She seems to relax a little bit under the weight of my hand. It's only then that I realized how tense she was when she walked in.

"I thought…I…it's fine, Gale told me where you were when I texted him a bit ago. Just…let me know where you are next time, okay?" she says as she steps into my arms. It's not exactly lost on me that she seems really reluctant to let me go. So I try to put myself into her shoes for a minute—she's not envious because I've spent the entire evening with our friends while she listened to hipsters playing bongos at open mic night. No, she's the girlfriend of a recently relapsed alcoholic who didn't answer his phone one night and ended up in the hospital the next morning. That isn't something she's just going to get over in a matter of a few weeks.

"I will. I'm sorry," I tell her as I kiss the crown of her head.

"It's okay. Did you guys have fun?" she asks, tugging me back into the living room.

"Yeah…it's been a good day," I say with conviction. I want her to understand that. Because it really _has _been a good day.

Finnick greets her with a dirty joke, earning another slap from Annie and Madge and an eye roll from Katniss. She sits and chats with everyone for a little while, but it's getting late and everyone except for the pair of us has to work in the morning. Madge and Gale file upstairs and Finnick and Annie see themselves out. Katniss runs her hands along my leg idly as we share a quiet moment taking up the same couch cushion.

"I spoke in our meeting today," I say out of nowhere. She pulls herself away from me so she can look into my eyes. "I did. I got up and told my whole story. That's why it was a good day."

She seems to be taking an extra minute or two to process this before she grasps one of my hands with hers. "That's…that's good. What did Madge say?"

"She cried. She looked so…proud of me. That was really nice. I feel…I don't know how to describe how I feel now. But it's really good, you know. It's _good._"

She takes a long hard look at me before taking my face between her hands and kissing me firmly. "I can tell," she says.

"I wanted you to be the first one I told. I've been waiting all night to tell you. I wanted to see your eyes when I told you," I tell her, pulling her hips a little closer. Just as I thought they would, her silver eyes glimmer in this moment. They say a thousand things she might not be able to say aloud.

"Do you want to stay here tonight?" she asks. A part of me wants to keep telling her about the meeting, about how I'm feeling, about why I'm pretty sure this is about as big of a deal in my recovery as I could hope for right now.

But instead, I stand up from the couch quickly and swoop her up into my arms. Actions so thoroughly speak louder. We're through the door to her basement dwelling quickly, not bothering with things like lights or looking out for shoes or the corners of walls that jut out and bump into my shins. No, this moment is all _us. _It's me taking a huge leap forward. It's her being proud of me and loving me even more for it. It's the chemicals pumping through my blood that are meant to quell the bad thoughts in my brain adjusting to something I crave desperately in this moment and allowing me to have it.

God, I've wanted this moment for weeks.

Our clothed bodies wrap up in one another as we spread out over her bed. Her lips connect to mine in a smooth, natural motion that leaves me breathless. Her velvety tongue plunges into my mouth and begins to leisurely writhe against my own. Her breath catches. I feel myself become instantly hard with want for her. She notices and places her hand firmly against the bulge in my pants.

"Is that a yes to staying here?" she murmurs against my lips. I roll her over onto her back in response and begin to grind my hips into hers. She groans into my mouth at the sensation, one that's been absent for so long, too long.

"I'll stay anywhere, so long as I get to make love to you right now," I tell her as I pop up on my knees and begin to rid her of her work clothes. She lifts her hips off the bed so I can make easy work of her jeans, then rises to sits so I can pull her shirt off and unclasp her bra. After my shirt follows hers to the floor, our mouths collide again and our tongues battle briefly for dominance before hers acquiesces to me. I lay her back against her recently neglected pillows and begin to plant kisses all over her neck, her chest, her arms; as I work I swear I hear her hiss out something akin to 'finally'. Whether she's meant to or not, it's all it takes to make me all the more determined to do all of this properly.

My mouth grazes over every exposed inch of her skin. She's demure at first, but when my tongue laves at the crook of her elbow and along her forearm, she begins to thrash underneath me. She paws her hands at the fastenings of my jeans but I swat her fingers away delicately—I still have her other arm to pay attention to before I'd even want to consider ridding myself of the rest of my clothes. I'm licking little circles around her navel and up the center of her stomach when her fingers twine in my hair and force my lips to her breast. I flatten my tongue over her nipple with a long, smooth stroke and am rewarded with the delicious catch in her throat once more.

A moment later, as I'm attacking her other breast with my teeth, I feel her writhe and lift her hips to brush against my own. I lick a trail up her chest to her neck as I simultaneously push her hips down. I toy with her earlobe for a moment before whispering, "We have all the time in the world."

"But…" she begins, her eyes flashing open and boring into me. I kiss her delicately and knead the muscles around her hip bone with my hand. She reaches up and her fingertips trail along my shoulder blades, my spine, then finally ghost across the waistband of my jeans. This little motion is almost my undoing, but I clear my thoughts and refocus on laving her neck with my tongue, nipping at the junction of her collarbones with my front teeth, tangling my fingers in her hair to arch her neck in whichever direction I want it. She's putty in my hands by the time I get out from between her legs and flip her onto her belly; my lips connect with the skin of the nape of her neck as my hands stoke up and down her sides. It's been so long since I had the energy or motivation to do this that I've almost forgotten how fantastic her skin tastes—salty, savory, sweet all at once, every inch of it inherently her.

She's moaning wantonly as my mouth kisses a trail down her spine, her fingers gripping at the blankets underneath her. She shivers slightly a moment later when I flatten my tongue across the strap of her underwear. I grasp her hand in my own and bring it down to her side before I coax her panties off her hips. "Touch yourself, Katniss. I'm not done with you yet," I tell her firmly, my voice more of a growl than actual words. Without having to be told again, her hand buries its way underneath her belly and she moans at first contact. I kneel between her legs again to continue my work down the back of her thighs and am just able to catch a glance of her fingers probing her center, finding the moisture seeping from her and swirling it around the hooded nub at the apex of her thighs.

I'm nipping at the top of her right ankle, my fingers drawing little circles around the crook of her knee when she finds her release under the weight of her own hand. Every muscle in her body tenses to the point I'm worried she has a cramp in the leg I'm holding still, but then I hear her pant and cry out just once, sharp and loud, and I know she's ridden out the first of her orgasms for the night. I plant a moist kiss on the bottom of her foot before I flip her over again and look down on her, a shaky, gorgeous mess that I want more in this moment than I can stand.

"Are you ready?" I whisper, running my hands along the slightly damp patch of hair between her legs. She sucks in a deep breath and nods vigorously.

"I want you," she says, her voice dazed and husky.

"Good," I tell her as I slide my fingertip past her folds and bury it knuckle deep inside her. She thrashes against the pillows and keens out my name.

"I want _you!_" she cries out as I twirl my thumb around her clit and probe a second finger inside her. "Please!"

"You have me, baby," I say with a wicked smirk on my face. I curl my fingers towards her navel and am rewarded with her jaw going slack and a loud grunt escaping her throat. Her hands lock around my wrist and I think she's going to pull my hand away from her until I curl my fingers again and watch her resolve wither. "I'm going to make you come again before I put my cock inside you. And then I'm going to watch you come again once I do. Do you know why?"

She claws at her scalp as I continue to pump my fingers and pulse my thumb. Her voice is raw when she cries out "W-Why?"

"Because I love watching you fall apart. I love making you come. I love hearing you cry out my name. I love every inch of you, every bit of you. I love you, Katniss," I gasp out as her walls clamp around my fingers. It's as if my words were all that was needed to make her fall over the edge again, because as soon as her name falls from my lips, she convulses and screams out my name so loudly I'm sure she's probably woken up Gale and Madge two floors up. But God, do I ever not care in this moment. I pull my fingers out of her and give them a quick, sloppy lick as she watches me, her eyes hooded and her breath coming in gasps. I kiss her slowly before I get to my feet. "Rest for a second."

Her eyes flutter closed and her hands tangle behind her head. I watch her breathing gradually slow as I yank off my shoes and socks, unfasten my jeans and slide them and my underwear off my legs. I have to round the bed to locate the box of condoms she keeps in her top dresser drawer but I crawl back in bed beside her as soon as I've sheathed myself properly with the first one I find. Her arms wrap around my neck when I hover above her and her eyes open again to look at me. The smile on her face is possibly the widest I've ever seen.

"R-Ready?" I ask as I line myself up with her.

She lifts her hips up and tucks her knees in the crooks of my underarms and nods excitedly. I mean to slide in slowly, letting my senses savor every second of being inside her again after so many weeks, but my hips snap forward as though they have a mind of their own and I'm plunged inside her fully. Our voices mingle as we each cry out in relief at this first amazing contact. I force myself to stay still for a moment, feeling her muscles twitch around my cock before I rock my hips against hers a few gentle times.

"Oh, God," she moans, her voice lower and less desperate than it was a moment ago.

"Oh, _Katniss_," I hiss as I withdraw myself almost totally from her and plunge back in. Her back bows up impossibly and her fingers clamp around my wrists at her waist. She tries to wiggle herself against me, silently urging me to speed up, to take her hard and fast, but I can't bring myself to. Not after so long. Not when it would end me so quickly. So I tell her again, "We have all the time in the world."

It calms her and she's compliant as I slowly and steadily thrust in and out of her. She runs her palms along my forearms as my hands guide and support her waist up off the mattress as she starts murmuring out lovely words meant solely for my ears: "I love the way you fuck me…yes, just like that…oh God, Peeta, _yes…_oh God, don't stop…_yes…yes!…_I love…I love…I love you…"

Finally I can't take the slow and steady anymore. My hand dips down to find her clit again as I begin to whip my cock in and out of her. She cries out and clenches herself around me deliberately. "Yes!" she screams.

"Fuck!" I respond.

"Come inside me!" she begs.

"Yes…oh, fuck, Katniss…"

Whatever resolve I might have had to make sure to finish her off again first disappears as I lose myself in the exquisite ecstasy of burying my cock inside her deeper and deeper. My fingers stop their work as I dig my nails into the tops of her thighs, her walls milking out my orgasm until I'm a boneless, fragile disaster that collapses on top of her, panting and exhausted and wonderfully spent. She guides my head so it's tucked between her breasts and kisses the top of my head delicately. Her heart pounds in my ear and I hear her hum and sigh as we bask in the afterglow.

"_Totally _worth the wait," she murmurs in my ear. I can't help but grin against her breasts.

"You mean those other orgasms I've made sure you've had the last few days weren't good enough, huh?" I tease.

"You may have very, very talented hands, sir, but your cock and your tongue are still the best of your physical attributes," she says breathily.

"Um…that's a compliment, right?" I say, looking up at her with my eyebrows raised. She pulls on my chin and connects our lips languidly, stroking her tongue against mine convincingly.

"Yes. It's a compliment. But _you _are still the very best part of you," she says against my lips.

"I love you," I remind her, as if somehow she might have forgotten.

"You've worn me out. Let's go to sleep?" she tells me with a smile.

I roll off her and deposit the condom in the wastebasket next to the bed before we crawl under the covers and cling to each other again.

"Peeta?" she whispers after a moment. My head has already gotten hazy with the need for sleep, so I grunt at her in response. "I love you, too," she says after a moment.

I grin broadly and pull her a few inches closer. I breathe in the scent of her as my world turns hazy and I fall into a deep, dreamless sleep.


	23. Grass is Getting Greener Each Day

**Forever thanks go to _sohypothetically _for her SEVERAL rounds of beta-ing and _megsonfire_ for helping me tweak about a thousand words of the following content to make it more cohesive. I cannot say enough wonderful things about the both of you.**

**Trigger warnings for the following: implications of attempted suicide (non-central character) and mental illness (of a major character). Not the fluffiest chapter ahead, folks, but stick with me...it'll be okay at the end, I promise!**

* * *

_I know we got it good, but they got it made,_

_And their grass is getting greener each day,_

_I know things are looking up, but soon they'll take us down,_

_Before anybody's knowing our name_

_They've got all the right friends in all the right places_

_So, yeah, we're going down_

-OneRepublic

* * *

I sit in the break room at work with my head in my hands. The slick cover on my new cell phone provides a perfect surface area to spin the device in circles on the countertop in front of me. Every so often, I place my hand over it to stop it in place. I look up at the computer and sigh. It's been a painfully slow day for a Friday, as evidenced that I've had nothing on my books for the last two hours. Ten more minutes and I can clock out early, whip up something to eat for Katniss and I when she gets off of work and just put this whole stupid day behind me. I wish I had been busy all day. Because if I had been, I wouldn't have had to take that fucking phone call and it wouldn't be weighing so heavily on me now.

When the break room door opens and Finnick strides through, all cocky smile and ridiculous swagger, I force it out of my head. I remind myself who my _real _friends are now. How great they are. How thankful I am that they're grinning and bearing with me through this.

"You still got the short end of the scheduling stick today, eh?" he says as he washes his hands.

"Yep. Most of my regulars got in last week and my OT still doesn't want me doing more than one deep tissue session a day," I say glumly.

"Sucks, man. But hey…why don't you come out to dinner with me and Annie tonight?" he says, his tone picking back up immediately.

"Um…I've been sitting here for almost three hours with next to nothing on my books for the second straight day. I'm gonna be lucky to pay my rent with what my check is gonna look like," I say.

"My treat. Kat, Gale, and Madgie are coming, too. I'm treating everyone," he says.

I sigh heavily. Over the past couple of weeks, either Finnick or Gale has been covering me whenever we've gone out, even if it's just to Wanderer's. It's not that I don't appreciate it because I do. But if one of them has to put my meal on their check one more time, I'm gonna scream from how damn useless I feel when I'm as broke as I currently am. "I can't ask you to do that, Finn."

"You're not asking, Peet. Like I said—I'm treating everyone."

I want to spit back in his face that I _wish _he would ask. I wish Katniss and Madge had asked before they cleaned my apartment. I wish Annie had asked before she bought me groceries that day after my conversation with Johanna. I wish they'd all just stop fucking coddling me because I'm their fucked-up friend who can't take care of himself.

"Let me pay you back after payday at least?" I ask, knowing full well he'll blow me off if I try.

"Come on, Peeta…it's a special occasion," he says with a roll of his eyes.

I know he isn't going to let me off the hook until I say yes. Against my better judgment I swallow back the thought that this is all just because he feels sorry for me and nod. "Alright. Where are we going?"

"The Wellshire Tavern," he says with a grin.

I was expecting him to let me order off the $2 roll menu at the sushi place he always wants to go to lately—not one of the fanciest restaurants in town.

"Did you finally cross a line with one of those pretty clients that are always raving about you the whole session when they get stuck with me? Is it the one with the red hair and the giant rack that NEVER stays draped no matter how many times you pull the sheets up to her throat?" I ask him quizzically.

"Ha! Nah, she's a pretty crumby tipper if you don't remember. If I were gonna risk my license I'd do it on someone who's a guaranteed $30 or more…"

"I'm totally telling Annie that."

"No you won't," he replies with a cheeky wink.

I eye the break room door quickly to make sure Annie doesn't breeze in any second. "This 'special occasion' you're referring to—you don't have a ring you're hiding, do you?" I ask him quietly.

"It's a special occasion, Peeta. Just go with it, huh?"

_Well, I'll be damned. Finnick Odair might finally be ready to make a commitment to someone._

I think back to when I first noticed Annie and Finnick's flirting go from innocent to completely obvious that they were seeing each other outside of work. It couldn't have been more than a month, maybe two before Gale and Madge's wedding, unless I was way more oblivious than I give myself credit for. They can't have been together more then nine, maybe ten months…but then again, they are Annie and Finnick…

I wonder if Katniss and I are any sort of symbol for a relationship the way our friends are. Gale and Madge—the blissful newlyweds who've gone through hell and come out stronger on the other side. Annie and Finnick—the sweet girl-next-door who tamed the shameless flirt. What does that leave me and Katniss as? Some sort of Star Crossed Lovers who might have fallen way too hard way too fast and are hanging on despite everything my alcoholism has done to us?

_No. Katniss and I are not Star Crossed Lovers. We're in love, the same as Gale and Madge and Finnick and Annie are. Get your head out of your ass, Mellark._

"Going with it," I tell him as I look at the computer and see nothing's popped up on my schedule for my last hour. "Looks like I'll even have time to go home and tart myself up for you," I say with a wink. He takes one of the hot towels out of the steam cabinet and snaps it against my ass.

"Don't forget to shave this time. Your stubble chapped my skin last time we made out," he says cheekily.

"Then no granny panties," I tease back. That's the second Annie chooses to walk in from her session. To be fair, we totally deserve the weird look she gives us before I shuffle out the door to close my room and head home.

* * *

It's nice to have my apartment to myself, even if it is just for a few minutes. Katniss is driving over with Gale and Madge and they're due any minute, which pangs my gut in a weird way I'm not quite sure of. I usually like how much Katniss is around, and I should—she's my girlfriend. To that end, Madge is my best friend and Gale is practically my brother. But there is something about right now that is making me edgy about them being here, even if it's just to pick me up so we can all carpool to the restaurant together. I wish I'd told them I'd drive and meet them at their house, even though me driving my little piece-of-shit sedan won't be nearly as comfortable as Gale's SUV. I bolt the door behind me when I go to get in the shower; Katniss has a key so she'll be able to get in anyway, but this is still _my _apartment. I need it to feel that way for as long as possible right now.

My really nice button down shirts are tucked in the back of my closet. I have to rifle through grubby t-shirts I've had since high school before I get to the row of them in the corner and pull out a few to decide between. I decide to pair a pale blue shirt with my black suit pants I wore to the wedding; I'm buttoning the shirt up to my throat when I turn to put away the other two shirts I grabbed when I see _it. _

It's a simple white button down. Breathable cotton. Crisp from starch, even though the last person to touch it did so well over a year ago. Tucked under the collar is the ugliest tie on the face of the planet. Navy blue background with a gaggle of ugly, cartoon style turkeys in pilgrim's hats and Native American headdresses.

_He loved that tie. He wore it every Thanksgiving. He thought it was funny how much we hated it._

I yank the shirt off its hanger and press it against my face. I move the fabric around and around, taking deep, not-so-steady inhales as I go.

_No…no…_

Katniss doesn't bother knocking anymore when she comes in since I gave her the key. Madge and Gale are right on her heels. They look at me funny, as if to ask why I'm not ready yet.

"You…who hung this shirt up?" I stammer at them, my eyes feeling like they're about to bug out of my head.

Katniss's face falls, probably because she can see the look on mine. "I…I found it in a box under your dresser when we cleaned everything up before you came home. I put all the books away, too…"

"How…how could you do that?" I hiss at her.

"Peeta, what's wrong?" Madge says, stepping between Katniss and I quickly. I step around her to get closer to my girlfriend, who's eyes are widening fast.

"I thought it was just—"

"This was my Dad's!" I scream at her. "I kept it in that box so it would still smell like him! And now it smells like me, like all my other clothes and cigarettes and that fucking mint shampoo of yours! It smelled like _him!_"

"Baby, I'm sorry, I didn't know!" she says. Gale steps up next to her, his eyes challenging me to scream at her again.

I can't help myself. "Don't fucking touch my shit, Katniss! You can leave your fucking toothbrush but you don't live here, got it? Don't touch my shit without asking!"

"Peeta, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry!" she cries. I throw the shirt down at her feet in anger and feel my jaw clench tighter and tighter.

"Take a walk, Peeta," Gale says sternly, grabbing me by the arm. I resist the urge to punch him in his smug fucking face.

"Fuck you, this is _my _home," I sneer.

"And you're being a prick to _my _best friend. Take. A fucking. Walk," he says, shoving me at the door. I narrow my eyes at all three of them before palming my cigarettes and slamming the door behind me as I march down the stairs.

There's a running trail behind my complex. During warmer months it's littered with people walking dogs and zooming along on their bicycles. Now that it's almost October and nearly dark by now to boot, it's deserted. I like it that way. I light a cigarette and puff away as I march up the path, my building getting smaller and smaller in my peripheral.

_How dare she? How fucking dare she? That shirt was wrapped up so well. It might have held his scent for years, maybe: warmed sugar, fresh milk, cat dander, the baby powder he used instead of cologne or deodorant. Him. My dad. My dead, buried, wonderful dad. How fucking dare she?_

"Peeta!" A voice rings out behind me, out of breath and panting. I rear back, content to scream at Katniss to go away, leave me alone._ Don't you know you've already done enough? Leave me the fuck alone. _

"Fuck off, Madge," I sneer when I see the blonde curls and wide eyes staring me down.

"No. Not until you talk to me," she challenges me.

"I don't. Want. To talk. Go away," I say, marching forward again. Her hand catches my arm so suddenly she's able to throw me off balance and I land in a heap at her feet. She stares daggers down at me.

"She said she was sorry. She didn't know what that stuff was or she wouldn't have touched it. And it was my idea to put it away when she found the box, she's just the one who did it, so really, if you want to be pissed at someone, be pissed at me. Yell and throw your fucking tantrum in my direction, not hers, because I can take it. I'm not the one who cried herself to sleep every night you were in rehab because I had nightmares in bed alone without you. I know exactly where you're coming from and she doesn't because you don't talk to her about the shit that's going on inside your head. If you need someone to blame right now, blame me, not your girlfriend, alright?" she snaps.

The anger in her tone takes my breath away. Madge isn't like this. She's comforting and sweet and non-confrontational. Unless she's so stressed out that she can barely...

Oh. Right. I suppose I'd be pretty stressed too if my best friend and sponsoree had just up and relapsed on me two months ago, too.

"Fuck," I say, putting the palms of my hands against my eyeballs.

"That's a good start. Talk to me," she demands.

"I don't know what to say," I yelp.

"What's in your head? Tell me that much. What happened today?"

I open my mouth to reply nothing. The truth crashes against my chest like a title wave. "I...I..." I stammer.

"Take a second. Breathe. Find your words and tell me why you freaked out that badly. Something had to have happened, you wouldn't have gone off like that if—"

"If Johanna hadn't ODed," I gasp out. The words finally coming out of my mouth and not Chaff's over the phone on my lunch break at work suck all the air out of my lungs.

"Johanna _what_?" she asks. Her tone is softer, more like her.

"Chaff called me today to tell me Johanna's in the hospital. She tried to...she took the better part of a bottle of pills, mixed it with some cocaine and beer and...she almost died. She would have died if she and Chaff didn't have a meeting that afternoon to go over her case. He doesn't know if she was really trying to...or just wanted to get leniency from a judge. Mental distress can be powerful in court cases, I guess," I say, nearly sobbing by the end of it.

Madge sinks down to the ground next to me and wraps her arms around her bare legs. She doesn't try to hold me or touch me, which I'm grateful for.

"You think she tried to kill herself. For real, don't you?" she surmises.

"She and Cato were going to getting married. And now he's dead. She doesn't have anyone else in the world to love _and_ she's being held responsible for his death. She could go to jail for years. She knows it's her fault. I told her she could rot for all I cared last time I saw her, and..."

"Don't blame yourself. You didn't pour the pills down her throat. That was her choice."

"I would have probably done the same thing. If something I did had killed Katn—fuck, if I was driving the car that killed any of you, Cato and Jo included, I'd never be able to forgive myself. Never."

"You're stronger than she is, Peeta. So much stronger. You've proved that to all of us. And you never got behind the wheel drunk—that was my shtick, remember?"

"Madge, I can't breathe—" I gasp out as I begin to hyperventilate. There's no oxygen mask here to help me this time. She cups her hands over my nose and mouth and commands me to slow down, take it easy, focus on her, focus on my breath...

A few minutes later I have it together enough to put my face in my hands. My body is shaking. She's shaking, too. Her arms are usually so steady when she helps me through something like this.

"Peet…did you take your meds this morning?" she asks gently after I've calmed. The question hits me hard. I try to replay my morning in my head, retrace my steps: I remember making a pot of coffee and smoking a few cigarettes, but the more and more I think on it, the more I'm fairly certain that when I go back to the apartment and look in the pill-divider that I sort the antidepressants into for each day of the week, the one marked 'Friday' will be suspiciously full.

"Fuck…I don't remember, but…I don't think I did," I admit defeatedly.

"That'll explain it. Let's get you back home so you can take them now, huh? Better late than never…" she says, moving to get up. She stays put though when she realizes I have no intention of getting up myself.

"I'm so tired, Madge. I'm so sick of feeling like my brain is broken. I thought I was better. But I'm not. And I don't want to be like this."

She rubs my back and kisses my cheek softly. I want to flinch, tell her not to try to soothe me when I'm like this, that I shouldn't get comfort from anyone when I feel like this mutated terrible version of myself.

"Your brain isn't broken, Peeta. You aren't yourself when you're dealing with this sort of thing. I know how it feels but you _aren't_ broken. Please don't talk about my best friend like that."

"I want my dad. I want him back."

"I know you do. I wish I could bring him back to you."

She puts her arms around me and tucks me to her chest like she's cradling a crying child, because I _am _one in this moment. The tears burn hot in my eyes. She murmurs that it's going to be okay, that I am loved and that they're all still on my side, no matter what. It's so hard to believe her. It's so hard not to hate myself. Hating myself is easier. For me. For Jo.

_I don't want to be like Jo. _

"Talk to me, Peeta," she says again several minutes later when sobs are no longer making my chest heave.

"S-six," I say automatically.

"That's okay. We can always work with a six. Are you gonna be okay for dinner?" she asks gently.

I'd all but forgotten about dinner. I want to beg off—take a piping hot shower that feels like it'll melt my skin off and get lost in a canvas or sketch pad. But I _promised_ Finnick. Even after I knew about Jo, I promised him we'd do something that he was excited about tonight. And when I have so few true friends left in the world, I can't back out on them whenever my head starts to feel scrambled and my hands begin to shake from cravings.

"I'll be fine…I just don't know how I'm gonna face Katniss and Gale," I admit.

"I sent them off without us. Told them to tell Finn and Annie that I had to stay late at school and you were picking me up. I imagine they've had a chance to take advantage of us not being there and drink a bottle of wine amongst the four of them for a change," she says almost lightheartedly.

_Good, _I think. _Maybe Katniss won't dump my ass as soon as I get there if she's had a drink or two._

"I'm sorry I was a prick," I tell her as we head back to my apartment.

"You're forgiven, Peeta. But I'm not the one you need to apologize to…"

I know she means Katniss. What I'm not sure about is whether Katniss will listen.

* * *

The restaurant is packed, but the hostess takes us to our friend's table quickly. I can hear Finnick's laugh echo through the place from fifteen feet away and it relaxes me quite a bit. Like maybe, just maybe, we'll have a normal night after all.

"Geez, Madgie, what's the deal with the kiddos today? More pink eye? Lice? I'll bet it was lice, wasn't it?" Finnick says when he sees us.

Madge smiles at him. "Neither. Parent-teacher conferences," she says, lying easily.

"Well, perfect timing," Annie says, handing her empty wine glass to a passing waiter. "Oh, sorry…do you want me to switch you, Katniss?"

What she means is, she's sitting on the side of the table with the only empty chair for me. Finnick's at one end and Madge has already strung her purse on the chair opposite him so she's sitting just to the corner of Gale. Katniss is wedged between Gale and Finnick, still nursing a glass of red wine like she's in no particular hurry to finish it, despite Madge and I sitting down and the unspoken agreement all of them have to not drink around us. You'd have to be blind (or Finnick) to _not _notice the look she shoots me when Annie suggests it.

_Ah. The scowl from high school _didn't _completely disappear after all. _

"No worries, Ann," I tell her as I take my seat. A waiter bustles by with menus for Madge and I and tries to offer us each something stronger than iced tea. I know I must have mostly calmed down when I only feel like a five on Madge's scale.

For whatever it's worth, Gale seems completely at ease with me again. If it weren't for the look on Katniss's face, you'd never be able to tell anything was wrong at all. Annie and Madge chat idly about their jewelry. Finnick gets Gale going about work until the waiter comes by again to take our full orders, then gets me involved in the conversation. All the while, Katniss is nearly silent, save for a few small grins in one of our other friend's directions—but never mine.

"Well, my dears, you know I hate talking about work—but I have to for a minute more," Finnick says with a flourish. "The reason I'm treating you all to dinner this evening has a rather alarming amount in common with work."

"Jesus, did Effie finally find out about you two?" I ask, pointing between he and Annie. Annie grins broadly. I feel a little bit more and more normal, except, of course, Katniss is _still _glaring.

"Only because we told her," Annie says.

"I thought that would get you both canned," Gale says.

"Except I had already put in my two-weeks' notice," Finnick says with his familiar cheeky grin. "Ladies and gentlemen, you are looking at the new sports massage therapist for the Carolina Hurricanes."

"Holy shit, Finn!" I say.

"That's a good thing, right?" Madge says, a little lost.

"That's a really, really good thing. That's a dream come true for a therapist who does the sort of specialty work like Finnick does," I tell her. "Man, how did you land that gig?"

"Eh, if I told you I'd have to kill you. I had to keep it under wraps because of team security and all that jazz. But I start with the team October 1st, just in time for the season," Finnick says with a smile.

"You traveling with them?" Gale asks.

"Maybe. Depends on the trainers and how they want me to work. It's possible though. But the biggest deal is the pay raise…"

"Don't brag about that part, Finn," Annie says tactfully. "You already made _me _jealous enough when you told me, don't bring Peeta down, too."

"What, you won't be making 20% of the cost of a massage anymore and scrounge for tips when working for a National Hockey League team? Shocking!" I say quickly.

"Yeah, fuck that noise. No offense. But, that does lead me to the other news of the evening…" he responds, taking Annie's hand in his own and looking at her dreamily. Even Katniss stops scowling long enough to take in what's about to happen. Without another word, Finnick pulls a small velvet box out of his jacket pocket and we all get that much more attentive when Annie gasps. "Annie Cresta…would you do me the honor of moving in with my sorry ass?"

He snaps open the box. It's not a ring. It is, in fact, a key. I half expect Annie to freak out because of the preamble that ultimately ended up in the noted lack of a marriage proposal, but she's beaming. Absolutely glowing.

"Of course, Finn," she says brightly and leans over to kiss him gently. Gale catcalls at them and Finnick flips him off quick enough that we won't get a tongue-lashing from a member of management for being indecent. I steal a glance at Katniss and see her scowl has melted away to a full smile, that she's laughing along with Gale and Madge at the sweet silliness of our friends, just like she should be. She swills back the last of her glass of wine before reaching over and patting Finn on the shoulder.

"Good for you guys," she says sweetly.

"Seriously, that's all great news," Gale says. "But still, no way am I letting you pay for _all _of us."

"Oh, Christ, not this again, Hawthorne. I work for the NHL now! I can buy us dinner!" Finnick says, thus beginning the argument between two very proud men over who gets to pay for dinner. The rest of us stay silent and I note that the scowl returns to Katniss's face as quickly as it had left. Later on, when our food arrives, she rolls it around on her plate more than she eats it.

She isn't the only one. Because, in spite of all the good news, the sweet kisses between our couple friends and friendly jokes we both get in on with the rest of the group, she and I still need to talk. Seriously. Honestly. And neither of us are looking forward to it.

* * *

I'm floored when she follows me to my car instead of Madge and Gale to theirs when we all head out, but I don't say anything about it. I'm too worried I'll spook her.

"Am I, um…taking you home?" I ask her gently.

"Yes. To your place," she responds.

I'm not sure if this surprises me or not. "Do you mind if I smoke?" I say as I start the engine.

"I never mind. You know that," she says shortly. All the same, she makes a show of pulling her jacket closed tighter when I roll down the window as we drive off. I crank the heat to counterbalance the cold wind against our skin.

The drive is silent save for that exchange until we're a block away from my apartment. I've smoked not one, but three cigarettes for my nerves and she's bouncing her feet idly against the dashboard, not caring in the slightest that she's wearing a skirt. Every so often I try opening my mouth to say something, but I always feel like I'm about to choke on my tongue. So instead, I busy my mouth with cigarettes. When I toss the bud out the window as I pull into my parking lot, she finally clears her throat.

"You'll need to brush your teeth. So will I. It's a good thing I have a toothbrush at your place," she snaps.

"Katniss, I'm—"

"Stop. Just don't. Not right now. Just park and we'll go upstairs. We're not doing this in the car," she says.

_This. This discussion. This hard, shitty discussion. Fuck._

"Okay," is all I can think of to say. I end up following her up the stairs, but I open the door. She strokes Sammy's back quickly as she pads into the bathroom, me trailing like a puppy after her. She quickly spreads toothpaste over both our brushes and hands mine to me expectantly. "Um…thanks?"

She shoves her brush into her mouth quickly and stares at her reflection in the mirror. I begin to unbutton my shirt with my free hand as I clean my own teeth. She glances over at me briefly, but doesn't say anything. A few minutes later we each swish our mouths out with my mouthwash and I shrink back towards the living room, trying not to notice the still ajar closet door in my tiny hallway.

Whatever happens next, I figure we should be moderately comfortable and be able to face one another. Maybe the barstools? Yeah, seems like a good enough place for a heart-to-heart…

"Peeta," she says from behind me. I turn and look at her sadly, expecting to see that reflected in her face as well. Instead she grabs me by the open collar of my shirt, throws me against the wall, and presses her body and mouth flush against my own. Her tongue is in my mouth so quickly I choke a bit. Her hips grind against mine. My mind races.

"Katniss, we should talk about earlier," I say, pushing her body a few inches off mine.

"Later," she says, pressing herself back up against me and probing my mouth with hers again.

"Kat—it's import—" I say between the feverish kisses.

"Stop talking," she says tersely against my lips. Her skirt-clad center rubs against the front of my dress pants in such a way they have no excuse not to tent.

Despite still being baffled at, well, everything, I wrap my hands around her waist to pull her closer. She circles my wrists with her fingers and forcefully pins them to the wall behind me right at the height of my shoulders. The right one throbs the tiniest bit with the force she uses, but I can't find it in me to complain.

"Keep them there," she murmurs, testing me when she removes her hands and watches me closely for a moment. Somewhere between the dark grey of her eyes and the serious tone of her voice in this moment, I know better than to disobey. Really, I don't _want_ to disobey. My wrists stay pinned as if I'm shackled in place by invisible cuffs, even as her own hands begin to work at the rest of the buttons of my shirt, lower to the clasp of my belt, and finally the button and fly of my dress pants.

"Katniss…" I start again before her eyes shut me up.

"We're not talking now. We're doing. Shut up and enjoy it," she says as she drops to her knees in front of me, yanking down my pants and underwear with one swift movement that causes my belt buckle to thunk against the floor. She looks up at me only briefly before she takes my nearly fully erect penis into her mouth. By the time she's plunged her lips around me from head to base, I'm fully hard and throbbing in her mouth.

She's working me into a lather with her tongue, causing me to groan and my eyes to roll back in my head at the sweet sensation of it all—and then her mouth disappears completely and she gets to her feet, tugging my pants back up so they're midway up my thigh.

"Walk. To the recliner. Lean it back. All the way back," she commands. "Now."

Having my pants mostly covering my legs helps as I walk over to the chair in a daze, plopping down on it quickly before pulling the lever to raise the footstool. When I do, she tugs my shoes off my feet and has me bend my knees so she can loop her fingers in the top of my pants. She throws them across the room in a flash and I expect her skirt and top to follow. Instead, she shimmies her panties down her legs before she snatches a condom from my bedside table. A second later, she's crawling into my lap and swatting my hands away when I try to help her push the little disk of latex around the head of my cock.

"Lay there. Don't talk," she says. I grip the arms of the chair tight as she pulls her skirt up a little as she scoots forward and impales herself on me with a satisfied hiss. "Don't talk," she begins as she begins to push her hips upwards before thrusting back down again. "Unless you're going to talk dirty."

"You're fucking me," I gasp out.

"Yes," she moans.

"You're so wet."

"I've wanted to fuck you all day."

"Christ, Katniss…you're dripping…"

"You like that."

"I fucking lo—shit!—ve that."

Her fingernails claw at my nipples through my undershirt. I try to push her top up with my hands, maybe so I can sample her skin as she rides me, but she swats at me again and thrusts down on me harder, causing the chair to creak and my mind to reel.

"Tell me why you like fucking me," she demands, pivoting her hips a different way and keening when my cock hits a different spot inside her.

"You're g-gorgeous," I stutter.

"More."

"You taste—oh, _God—_incredible when I have my t-tongue inside you."

"More."

"You're t-tight. Like a f-fucking vice."

"More, Peeta! Tell me why you like fucking me so much," she pants, snapping her hips against mine continuously.

"Because…because…oh _fuck, _Katniss, I love you!" I cry out as heat builds to overflowing at the base of my spine. I come with a jerk of my hips upwards against her which must push her over the edge, too, for the scream that escapes her throat.

We're still connected as she collapses onto my chest, trying desperately to catch our breath. I hold her tight to me as we pant in alternating breaths, allowing our lungs to fill and empty in a rhythm with one another.

"Can I…can we talk now?" I ask when our breathing is mostly back to normal. She sits up and rubs her face, smudging her mascara under her eyes.

"Can you call out of work tomorrow?" she asks, her voice back to monotone.

"I shouldn't. I have a full book for the first time all week. Katniss, let's just talk now, please," I say gently, running my hand lightly through her hair.

She turns her head and kisses my palm quickly before pulling herself out of my lap to standing. "We'll talk Sunday. First thing. I'm tired, Peeta. We're going to sleep now."

"They say not to go to sleep angry," I murmur.

"They're wrong. And I'm not angry. We'll talk first thing Sunday morning, when we both know what we're going to say," she says as she pads back to the bathroom.

I stare up at the ceiling for a long time while she puts on a pair of my gym shorts and one of my wrestling t-shirts from high school and twines her hair into a braid over her shoulder. I barely have time to pull my underwear back on before she's tugging me in the direction of the futon, curling her back against my chest and pulling my arms around her after she snaps out the light.

* * *

Saturday is a blur. I don't think I could tell you what I actually did all day because I'm pretty sure all I did was go through the motions: get up, shower, go to work, give massages, leave work, smoke a thousand cigarettes. And I'm pretty sure I only remember work and smoking because of the cash tips in my pocket and the tar coating my tongue.

Katniss is nowhere to be seen Saturday. She got up before me to go into Wanderer's and sent me a text that she and Gale would be hanging out after work. Encouraged me to do something with Madge or Annie or Finnick. Usually messages like that are punctuated with a quick **Love you. **That was noticeably absent from this message.

Madge and I go to a meeting, a movie, and a diner for dessert and coffee until Gale texts her to say he's home and Katniss has gone back to my place. Madge almost doesn't let me leave until I've talked to her a little more, but finally does when I've convinced her I'm okay. 'Okay' is subjective under the circumstances, I suppose.

By the time I get home, Katniss's car is already parked in front of my building. I wonder if I'll catch her in enough time that we can just sit down and have this conversation now, even though I still have no idea what I'm going to say other than apologize a thousand times for being such a dick. But when I open the door, all the lights are out and she's sound asleep on the futon. A streetlight filters in from the open window across from the bed and shines dimly on her pillow, illuminating her face. I like watching Katniss sleep: her face is neutral, neither scowling nor smiling, just true neutral. And calm. Unquestioning. But still intoxicating.

If the prospect that we'd be waking up in just a few short hours to have such a serious discussion weren't weighing so heavily on me, I'd wake her up and make love to her. As it is, I'm pretty sure I couldn't get hard to save my life, my stomach is so clenched up in knots.

_How is hers not the same? How does she sleep so peacefully with the knowledge that…that…_

God, I hope she actually knows what will happen tomorrow. Because I certainly don't.

It takes me hours to wind down enough to be even remotely sleepy. I lay back in the recliner so I don't disturb her by tossing and turning, reading an e-book on my phone and studying her body every time she rolls over or does something in her sleep. Near 2:00 am she begins murmuring to herself and shaking her head back and forth. I think back to what Madge had said out on the running trail behind my building, about Katniss having nightmares while I was away at rehab. I study her for a long time, wanting to make sure to wake her if that's what's happening to her now. A moment later, a smile creeps across her lips for a split second and then she goes still, her face returning to its neutral state.

I envy her whatever she dreamed about. It must not have been bad.

After I finally spread out next to her on the mattress, her body rolls over and tucks itself against mine. She sighs in her sleep but I don't think she's stirring. I lean over and kiss her temple softly, whispering an 'I love you' into her un-hearing ear.

A minute later, I'm asleep. What seems like only two minutes later, I'm awake in a sun-drenched room and her body is missing from the space next to me.

"I made coffee," Katniss says from the other side of the room. She's sitting cross-legged in the recliner, a book on her lap and one of my largest coffee mugs propped up on her knee.

"Thanks," I murmur sleepily, rubbing the palms of my hands against my eyes. My stomach is still twisted in a thousand knots, but at least it's finally Sunday morning. We can get this over with.

"You're welcome. Get yourself woken up, and we'll talk," she says calmly before turning her face down to her book again. I pad across the apartment and find a mug already set out for me. I mix a bit of half and half into the dark brown liquid and take it with me outside for a morning cigarette. Usually the nicotine and caffeine help wake me up, but this morning it just makes my stomach churn more. I stub out the stick when it's only halfway smoked and go back inside.

She's sitting on one of the barstools, looking at me expectantly when I reenter the kitchen. I pour myself a glass of water to calm my stomach and hike myself up on the stool next to her.

"Would you like to start, or should I?" she whispers after a silent beat.

I know I probably _should _start with the first of my numerous apologies, but my throat is scratchy and sore. I clear it as I study my hands. "Ladies first."

She sighs, and from the corner of my eye, I can see her staring at her own hands. I'm glad I'm not the only one who can't quite look the other of us in the eye.

"I've been spending two days wondering what I could have possibly done to get _that_ sort of reaction out of you. It took me a lot longer than it probably should have to realize that all of that had almost nothing to do with me. I'm right, aren't I?" she says slowly.

I nod my head meekly. "I, um…I'd forgotten my meds. That was part of it," I admit.

"But not all of it," she guesses.

"No. Not all of it," I confirm.

She studies her coffee cup for a minute and sighs. "I know what I've signed up for with you. Gale's told me a thousand stories of how temperamental Madge was when she was first recovering; how she was emotional one minute and sobbing hysterically, then the next she'd be throwing pillows at his head, telling him he doesn't understand, he can't understand, blah blah blah…I know this just takes patience. Which is funny when you think about it, because neither Gale nor I are particularly patient."

She sighs.

"I guess…I guess what I don't understand is why it's different this time around. You weren't that much farther out originally for the wedding than you are now. But you're different this time. Is it…is it the accident? Is it Cato? Your hand and being out of work? I'm sitting here trying to figure out why it's so different this time, and a thousand possibilities strike me but I can't figure out what the reality is. Is it all of the above? Is is me? And…you won't talk about it. I told you to tell me whatever on your own time and I don't want to take that back, but…"

"We need to be talk," I conclude. "I know we need to talk. I know _I _need to talk."

"So talk to me," she says, her voice pleading. "Tell me how I can make this better for you. Whatever you want me to do, I'll do it. Short of leaving you. I'm not leaving you. I love you too much to leave you."

My hand wanders over the empty space between us and curls around hers. Her hand squeezes mine tight. We both sigh.

"Katniss, I…this sucks. It just sucks. Believe me when I tell you I hate that I'm like this. I hate that I'm an alcoholic. I hate that I relapsed. I hate that Cato's dead, that Jo's in trouble, and that my wrist still hurts too much to do my job the same way I did the day before the accident. I hate that I yelled at you. I hate that it's been over a year and I still miss my dad so much it's hard to breathe sometimes. I just…I'm so fucked up. I want to be better. I want to be able to breathe. I want to be worthy of you. And Madge. And Gale and Finnick and Annie. I swear I'm trying. I know it doesn't always look that way, but I promise you…I _am_ trying."

"I know you are," she tells me plainly.

I try to prioritize what she's said in my mind so I can answer one thing at a time. "It's…it's different this time around because I'm still mad at myself. I want to be able to go back to that day and…" I cut myself short, feeling the intensity of more words begging to come out of me, and also being so scared to say them. "Do you want to know what it was like in my head that day? What it's like in my head _every _day?"

She nods. "I want to help you."

"The day I relapsed," I say, realizing it's the first time I've not called it 'the Dark Day', "I felt _everything. _It was like one little thing happened, and then another, and before I could even tell you, I knew it was going to be the worst day of my life. And I knew I was wrong, too—I shouldn't have tried to go it alone. I think I knew right when I got out of lunch with Mom that I should have just driven straight to Madge's, but I didn't want to, well, bother her."

"You wouldn't have bothered her. She wanted to help you. We all did," Katniss says.

"I know that. The rational part of my brain gets that. But I don't think with the rational part of my brain all the time. And that day, the part of my brain I was thinking with was reminding me I'm a burden to you all—that you all tolerate me because it's easier than stopping being around me altogether. So I tried to stick it out so I wouldn't feel like Madge's project for the day, or your fucked up boyfriend, or Finnick's messed up work buddy. And when it all came up on me, all at the same time, to the point I couldn't see straight and couldn't breathe right, I just…I tried to figure out who would be the nicest to me without without demanding anything of me. Not Madge. She would have insisted I come straight over. But Annie—Annie would just be nice and let me vent and ask me what she could do to help without insisting if I told her no. So I called her first. And the logical part of my brain knew she wouldn't answer because she was at work. But the part of my brain that controlled me that day…that part told me she was ignoring me because she didn't want to deal with my bullshit."

She sucks in a deep breath, like she wants to say something. But she doesn't.

"Then I…I needed someone to tell me they cared. And even though you weren't at the point where you were saying 'I love you', I needed to hear your voice because you'd tell me you were on my side and you weren't leaving me, and that you wanted me to come to your place and stay with you that night and try to make me feel better that way. I knew you'd gotten busted by Mika for having your phone out behind the counter so you had to leave it in your purse, but I thought maybe you'd sense it or something—and when you didn't, that feeling came all over again. You were tired of dealing with me. You didn't love me. You didn't want me. And I know that isn't true, Katniss, really. I knew it then, too, but it was easier to go along with what the fucked-up part of my brain was thinking rather than remind myself _again _of a truth that is still sometimes so damn hard to believe."

"That we do love you," she whispers.

"I needed…I needed something I could control. I couldn't control Sammy, but I could control what I did with my hands. It started with breaking the window. Sammy was yowling and crying, and I knew it was because of the day, because of Dad and more importantly because I'm _not _Dad, and I just wanted her to shut up. The noise of the window breaking shut her up for a minute, until she got louder, anyway. So more noise, more effort, more of doing something with my hands, even if it was destroying everything I touched made it all feel better for a split second. If I hadn't cut my finger, I don't know what I would have done next. And then Sammy got out and as stupid as it might sound, I just figured she'd be the first thing and not the last. That you'd get scared off once you found out what I'd done. That Madge would realize I was a lost cause. That Gale would stop calling me 'brother' and leave me just like my real brothers did. I figured you'd all leave when you figured out just what sort of head-case I turned out to be…but Jo and Cato? I didn't think they were the type to leave. They were the type to egg me on because I'm the most fun when I'm fucked up. They weren't the kind who'd judge me for doing something stupid and destructive because they've done so much worse. And being around people that fucked up would make me feel better, not worse. They'd make sure I'd stop feeling so angry and miserable, because they knew better than anyone else that the best cure for feeling anything at all is…is…"

"Numbness," she whispers.

I turn and gape at her. "Numbness," I repeat.

"I wish I'd been there. To stop you," she says.

"That's just the thing—I should have been able to stop myself. That's the whole point. And that's why I'm like this now. It has nothing to do with you or Madge or Annie not being there. This was probably always gonna happen because I've made sure these sort of thoughts were pushed way far down for way too long. I thought getting sober would stop me from feeling like an asshole all the time. I don't know, Katniss. I got my alcoholism from my mom. But looking back on it now—I might have gotten my depression from my dad."

It's a hard reality to face, but the more and more I've thought back to my dad lately, to the perpetually smiling, cheerful man that loved everyone and was loved by everyone—it makes sense. It makes sense that he stayed with my mom for as long as he did. It makes sense he never forgave himself for what she did to the three of us. It makes sense that the three of us always knew we needed to remind him as often as possible how much we loved him. We knew he'd break without that knowledge—and if his brain was anything like mine, it was almost impossible for him to believe.

"I, um…shouldn't have messed with the stuff in that box. Madge and I just figured it was stuff you'd tucked away and forgotten about. For whatever it's worth, I can't promise I wouldn't have reacted differently if it had been my dad's things. Particularly not something that smelled like him," she says, her lip trembling a little.

"I should never have screamed at you, no matter what I was feeling. That was wrong of me in so many ways," I respond, my voice cracking.

"It's okay," she says.

"No, it's not," I reply.

"You, um…" she pauses, running her fingertips under her eyes quickly. "The thing that really hurt was when you said I didn't live here. But it only hurt until I realized that I don't want to live here."

The wind is knocked out of my lungs. I feel like I'm drowning. _She said she loved me too much to leave me; did she really mean she loves me too much to stay?_

"That futon is killing my back. My bed is so much more comfortable. And my shower is bigger. The kitchen, too, even if I have to share it with Gale who is physically incapable of washing a dish. So I was thinking…maybe you'd move in with me. And Madge and Gale, of course, it's their house, but _with _me," she stammers, her eyes darting down to where our hands are intertwined.

The emotional toll of this conversation must be clouding my hearing. There is no way, no _way _I heard her correctly.

It's as if she's read my mind and knows I didn't hear her correctly the first time. "Peeta, I want you to live with me. Whenever you're ready. I want…I want that to be part of our forever," she repeats. But then she responds to my silence instinctively, snatching her hand away and repositioning her body so she's no longer facing me. "It was just a thought, it was probably—"

"Yes," I tell her.

"Y-yes?"

"My lease is up in November. But, um…two conditions," I say. Her bewildered face eggs me on. "One: I have to bring Sammy. And two: you remember that you can't save me by yourself. That it's not fair for you to try. That I have to save myself ultimately, even if you're there to help. Promise me that, Katniss, please?"

"I…I promise."

"Then come here," I say, opening my arms up to her. She's locked in my embrace at once, the pair of us balancing precariously on one barstool, limbs and lips and everything vying for proper purchase.

It's enough. And there is still nothing shiny about it.


	24. (Outtake) I Know You Are a Cynic

The bar they go to is nothing special: a faux English pub with a decent menu and a good pour of Guinness. There's a relatively secluded high top table in a corner that Katniss makes her way to, her best friend close behind.

"What can I get you folks?" a waitress with flaming red hair asks them a minute or two after they sit down.

"Scotch and soda for me, please," Gale requests.

"Beer," Katniss responds.

"What sort, lovie?" the waitress asks.

"Your most reasonably priced pitcher and a chilled glass. And the greasiest order of fish and chips your cook can make," Katniss clarifies.

"Good choice. Coming right up," the redhead says before walking away.

It's the sort of place that tries to validate itself by playing mostly UK-styled rock music. Frank Turner follows Flogging Molly which follows Oasis. Katniss doesn't pay much attention to the music, though. She fiddles with her nearly dead cell phone before deciding to just power it down to save the battery for the eventual drive home. But that'll be a while.

"Do you miss it, Gale?" she asks her friend after a while.

"Miss what, Catnip?"

Katniss gestures to their surroundings. "Spending a Saturday afternoon in a bar with darts and pool tables as opposed to a coffee shop with board games."

"Guess I haven't thought much of it. I go to Happy Hour once in a while with the guys from work," Gale says with a shrug.

"But not with any regularity. Because of your wife. Because she has a disease," Katniss replies. Anyone within ten feet of her could hear how bitter her voice sounds.

"I'd rather spend time with my wife than in a place like this, Katniss. I'm happier spending an evening in with her than I ever could be bar hopping and chasing skirts. You know that was never really my scene. And I know it wasn't exactly yours, either," the man says. He doesn't like the tone of her voice, the way her fingernails drum on the table top in between twirling the paper coasters so they spin as a blur. Katniss Everdeen is awfully easy to read sometimes. "You know Peeta didn't mean it. Yesterday. It was a bad day for him. Alcoholics have really bad days when they're sobering up, particularly ones who are chasing their Antabuse with Paxil. That's why he tried to push all of us away, to save us from having to deal with it."

"Yeah, and I'm mad at him about that, too. But, oh, wait, that's right. I can't be mad at my boyfriend because he's a recovering alcoholic with anxiety issues and that would be 'insensitive'," Katniss says tersely.

Gale opens his mouth to say something, but he decides against it. If Katniss needs to vent, better she vent to him in relative privacy, and not somewhere where Peeta might overhear her. These are exactly the sorts of things Peeta must worry Katniss thinks about him. He's in no shape to know she's actually vocalizing them because she's upset and vulnerable and confused. This isn't his best friend, and he knows it.

The red headed waitress chooses that moment to drop off their drinks. She bites her lip nervously and looks between the two. "Anything else before your food comes up?"

"Just a pitcher of water, please," Gale says politely.

Katniss pours herself a glass of her beer and chugs half of it down quickly. She wipes her lips with the back of her hand and leans back to stretch her spine.

"You can tell me if I'm being a terrible person, Gale," she says after he's suspiciously quiet for several minutes.

"You aren't a terrible person, Catnip. You've been putting a lot of time and effort into your relationship and you don't feel like you're getting enough credit for it. I'm just reminding you that Peeta isn't like this on purpose. He's a good guy. And he's trying harder than you and I realize he is. It's just…"

Gale pinches the bridge of his nose before letting his fingertips spread out across his eyelids. He takes an extra moment to consider what he's going to say.

"This is an undeniably shitty situation. I wouldn't blame you if you don't think you can handle it anymore. If you need to put some distance between you and Peeta, I'll help you break the news to him. Madge'll keep him calm. Maybe you two can talk it over when he's a little farther along in this process, you know…"

"Why the fuck is it always them and us, Gale? Madge and Peeta are not in a relationship. They belong with us. She's wearing _your _ring. He's _my _forever. And yet, somehow, it's always Madge _and_ Peeta and Katniss _and_ Gale," Katniss snaps suddenly.

"You know why. You and me, Katniss…we aren't addicts. We can sit here at this bar and keep our tabs under $50 for the pair of us. In the heyday of their drinking, do you think Peeta or Madge's bar tabs were ever under $50 by themselves? If Peeta paid for the drinks he downed the night of his relapse, how much do you think it would run him? $100? $200?"

"Damned if I know," Katniss says, rolling her eyes.

"That's just it. We don't know. I wish I could understand why Madge drank like she did. I wish I could sit with her and have a heart to heart about her cravings and why they're worse than others sometimes, why sometimes they all but disappear and then come crashing down around her. But even if she explained it to me, do you really think I'd get it?"

Katniss chews on the inside of her lip petulantly. She knows all of this. She's not without a rational side of her brain. But she still hates it.

"Think about you and me. Think about all the stories you and I have from growing up. How you and Prim used to fight like cats and dogs, about how you'd run away to my house and kick Rory out of bed so you'd have a place to sleep at night. Building up the cabin, deer hunting in the spring…we could tell every single one of those stories to Madge and Peeta until we're blue in the face, but would they really get what it was like for us growing up? You suppose a few anecdotes would help them understand our friendship? It's no different, Katniss, not really. You and I have a relationship Madge and Peeta will never really understand the depths of. You're my best friend in the world. Madge knows she'll never usurp that spot because it's yours. And Madge is Peeta's best friend. They have a relationship we can't understand fully for totally different reasons maybe, but at the end, it belongs to them. There's a part of it we weren't meant to understand, just like there's a part of our friendship they'll never understand. And honestly, I don't really think that's a bad thing."

"I don't want to leave him, you know," she says after she gives herself a minute to process his words. "He's my forever. He's worth all of this. I'm not willing to lose out on forever just because he had a bad day and yelled at me when he wasn't himself."

"I didn't think you did. I was just saying—if you had to, it wouldn't make you quite the terrible person you'd think it would. No more so than I was a couple of years back, you'll recall."

"That was different. Madge was still using."

"Yeah, I guess. I know you love him, Katniss. And I know he loves you. This version of Peeta isn't the real Peeta. At least not forever."

"I know."

"But I might punch him in the face if he ever yells at you like that again, even if he is in the middle of his recovery because you're still my best friend," Gale says with a small smirk. It lightens the mood just enough for Katniss to roll her eyes and laugh.

The red headed waitress comes by with a massive basket of fish and chips, the grease of which is already sinking into the newspaper lined below it. Katniss stuffs a couple of piping hot fries into her mouth before she knows better. Gale snorts at her when she has to blow backwards out of her mouth to cool her tongue off.

"Can you grab me a glass so I can help her with that pitcher?" Gale asks the waitress just before she walks away. "And get us the darts for the dart board, maybe?"

"'Course," the girl says with a wink.

"You don't want to challenge me at darts, Hawthorne, even if I am the tiniest bit tipsy already," Katniss says with a wiggle of her eyebrows.

"Which is why I will be helping you with that beer. We don't want another bar-with-Delly-post-defense incident, now do we?"

"Ass. That was the tequila's fault."

"Come on, Catnip, just trying to make you smile."

"Well, it worked when you mentioned darts. At least let me eat my fish before it gets all soggy."

"If you insist."

After several rounds of darts, a terrible match-up of pool with a couple of guys who look like they live at the gym, and another basket of fries, Katniss feels perfect to drive. She's pretty sure the alcohol she drank, be it in a more limited quantity what with Gale helping her, probably won't even have to work its way out of her system through her skin. That's definitely for the best, given that she has every intention of sleeping in her boyfriend's arms tonight.

She scans through the radio channels when she's stopped at a light not too far from his apartment. She recognizes the song as one she pauses on as one by Frank Turner they'd played while they were at the bar, thought she hadn't really heard the lyrics properly until they come through the speakers of her car stereo. If it weren't for the car behind her honking its horn, she might have missed the green light altogether from getting wrapped up in the words that just seem a little too apt for her right now.

" …_just give me a sign, just a subtle little glimmer._

_Some suggestion that you'd have me if I could only make me better._

_Then I would stand a little stronger as I walk a little taller, all the time._

_Because I know you are a cynic but I think I can convince you._

_Yeah, cause broken people can get better if they really want to._

_Or at least that's what I have to tell myself if I am hoping to survive._

_It's a long road up to recovery from here, a long way back to the light._

_A long road up to recovery from here, a long way to making it right._

_So darling, sweet lover, won't you help me to recover,_

_Darling, sweet lover, won't you help me to recover,_

_Darling, sweet lover, won't you help me to recover,_

_Darling, sweet lover, one day this will all be over."_

It wasn't necessarily the lyrics of a serendipitous song that pushed Katniss well and truly over the edge of loving Peeta Mellark. But she would be lying if she didn't admit that they helped her remember that he was worth the fight.

* * *

**A/N: The song Katniss listens to in the car is Frank Turner's _Recovery_, which is just so many Recovery!Peeta feels for me I can't even. I post more info about the songs I use for chapter titles, as well different thoughts on AtRF characters on my dedicated fic Tumblr: alltherightfriendsff. Come join me if you're so inclined. :)**


	25. For Us There is No End

_I've been loving you for such a long, long time_

_Expecting nothing in return_

_Just for you to have a little faith in me_

_You see time, time is our friend _

'_Cos for us there is no end_

_All you gotta do is have a little faith in me_

-John Hiatt

* * *

Four hundred and fifty square feet looks a lot different empty than it does furnished. Finnick and I have just finished hauling the very last bit of my furniture (the futon that'll go back to Hazelle's now that I don't need it) down to his truck and now my entire apartment looks just—

"Weird," Finnick says, nudging me in the side, echoing the thoughts in my head.

"Almost looks like enough space for a person to live, eh? As opposed to being all cooped up and squished," I respond.

"Hey, you got a whole house you get to roam around now. That's a good thing," Finn says with a nod. "That's all of it, right?"

"Think so. I'm gonna double check the drawers real quick, though, just in case. Tell the girls I'll be right down," I tell him. He nods quickly and tromps back down the cement stairs to where Annie and Katniss are wedging the last of my boxes into the corners of the truck bed and Katniss's car.

Sammy and I have been living in Katniss's space in Gale and Madge's house for a couple of weeks now. We'd gradually moved over most of my clothes, my books, and all my art supplies until I was more or less settled. But the rest of the stuff had to go as well: the futon had to be returned, my barstools and coffee and side tables had to be taken to Goodwill, my pots and pans had to find their places amongst those belonging to Madge in the kitchen. We'd lucked out that the first Monday of November wasn't so chilly that moving me the rest of the way wasn't a completely arduous task. Finn and Annie had been good sports about tagging along, too, even with Annie on the mend of a nasty flu.

I open up the drawers in the bathroom and kitchen, and scan through the closet quickly. As I've expected, the only thing I've left behind is the thing I've meant to—not my father's shirt, though. No, that's hanging in my side of Katniss's closet, amongst the rest of the button downs and the ratty shirts from high school I _still _won't get rid of. The only thing left in my apartment is my broom.

_You never take your broom when you move, Peeta, _I remember my dad telling me when I was 13. We'd just managed to pack up all of our things from our tiny bedrooms, and Dad was claiming only what was his out of the kitchen cupboards. He'd wrangled my help in packing some cleaners and detergents as our very last act in the house, and my hand had automatically wrapped around the broom handle. Dad had shaken his head at me and repeated himself until I put it back where I had found it.

_Why not? _I'd asked him.

_It's…it's an old tradition, son. You leave your broom for the people that come next who have to sweep out your memories. _Dad had told me. I'd obeyed—I was confused, but I obeyed all the same. And when I was an adult myself, I made sure whenever I moved, my broom always stayed behind.

As I take in the empty space one last time, I try to remember fondly the day Dad helped me move in here. It'd been raining and cold, so unlike today. But when we had all of my boxes stacked in a corner and my furniture uncovered from the plastic sheets we'd moved everything in, Dad had put a pot of pumpkin soup on the stove and stayed until three in the morning to get me settled. If I recall correctly, he even looked away the several times he'd caught me taking nips of gin out of the flask in my back pocket. I wonder if I'd left the flask in the freezer instead if I could remember more about that day. Maybe I'd remember more about Dad in general in those last few months, as opposed to every memory I have of that time being shiny around the edges.

A pair of arms slip around my waist suddenly and snap me back to the present. I turn in Katniss's embrace and place a kiss on her forehead before wrapping her up securely in my arms.

"We tried to give you a minute, but Annie's feeling pretty green again. I think Finn wants to take her to urgent care after we get your stuff unloaded, so…"

"Yeah, let's get going," I say, partially out of concern for my friend and partially because I'm ready to not be in this place anymore. Memories good and bad abound here. I'm ready to make new ones already.

"Oh, you forgot your broom!" Katniss says, walking over to the corner where it's leaning against the wall.

"Nope. You never take your broom," I tell her, tugging on her hand so we can head out. She quirks her eyebrows at me.

"Why?"

"So the people who come next have something to sweep out your memories with," I tell her. "It's something my dad used to say."

Her mouth makes a little 'o' of understanding, and she gets on her tip-toes quickly to kiss my cheek. She takes my hand firmly in her own as we step outside the apartment for the very last time and bolt the door behind us.

* * *

Sammy mewls at us from her cat condo in the basement corner. She's taken better to living here than she did at first to living in my old apartment, but I'm pretty sure that's because Madge feeds her kitchen scraps nigh constantly. All the same, the presence of boxes seems to disturb her slightly, given that she hisses as we drop the last one a few feet away, and disappears with a flick of her tail inside one of the alcoves.

"I hate unpacking," I say, rubbing my hands over my face. The piles and piles of boxes seem daunting to say the least, but I know Katniss and Madge will both get anxious from the disorganization of my stuff lying everywhere if we don't get at least most of them unpacked today.

"We could build that new bookshelf before we start…then we'll actually have a place to put everything," she says with a shrug.

I'm about to tell her that's not a bad idea when I spy her pull her shirt off over her head and toss it in the hamper nearby. She reaches back to unsnap her bra and I feel my mouth water just a little.

"Um…were you gonna shower or something?" I murmur.

"I am pretty gross and sweaty," she says, turning back around nonchalantly. Her nipples poke up at me enticingly. "Why, did you want to join me?" she says coyly as she unfastens her jeans and shirks them from her hips. My cock twitches hard in my pants as my eyes settle on one of the storage bins filled with various media items—books, DVDs, board games, what have you. It was so heavy Finnick had bitched it would give him a hernia, so he and I had to lug it together down the stairs. In retrospect, it wasn't the greatest packing decision. But it was awfully sturdy…

I close the distance between us with several long strides and put my hands on her waist as I claim her lips. "In a manner of speaking, yes," I say hungrily. I lift her up by her hips and deposit her quickly on top of the bin, kneeling in front of her immediately to coax the skimpy panties she's wearing down her thighs. Her eyes grow wide when I nudge her knees apart and I return her stare mischievously as I lower my face down to the apex of her thighs.

"Oh!" she gasps, as if she weren't expecting my desperation to claim her all of a sudden. But with the adjustment of my medication ever-so-slightly by Dr. Aurelius coupled with our new co-habitation arrangement, our love making has reverted back to the way it was prior to my relapse. Passionate. Spur of the moment. Intense. Frequent.

I dip my tongue as far as I can into her entrance, swirling her arousal around on the tip before flattening it against her clit. Her head thunks against the wall behind her when she throws it back and she moans, her hands grasping desperately at the sweaty collar of my t-shirt. I loop my arms under her thighs as I lap at the little bud possessively and she writhes against my face, her eyes watching me intently as I worship her. I revel in every gasp, every catch of her throat, every syllable of my name as it falls from her lips in heady wonder. My tongue probes and buzzes and teases in all the ways I know will destroy her in the most glorious possible way.

The tip of my tongue is almost numb by the time her thighs clench around my ears and her orgasm rips through her. But it's worth it—it's always worth it to watch Katniss fall apart from what I do to her. Her breasts rise and fall as she catches her breath, raking her hands through my hair as I kiss the delicate skin on the inside of her thighs. Her voice is deliciously shaky when she finally speaks.

"Couldn't wait for that shower, huh?" she teases.

"You always complain we're wasting water when we do it in the shower," I say, nipping at the skin over her knees.

"You're always using my eco-conscience against me," she huffs.

"Woman, are you really complaining about an orgasm? Really?" I marvel at her. Her eyes glint mischievously.

"I'm just saying…I would have tasted better if I'd been able to rinse off a little first," she says coyly.

"You always taste good," I grin in return as I start kissing up her body.

"Shower…now…" she moans as I fit my teeth around one of her nipples.

"Oh?"

"Yes…because you do _not _always taste good, particularly when you've been sweating all morning…and I want to return the favor," she says, pushing me away slightly and then dragging me by the hand to the bathroom. Sammy hisses at us from her hiding spot. "Don't you judge us, cat," Katniss hisses back at her, pinning me to the bathroom door when we step through it and run the water to warm it up.

* * *

When Gale and Madge get home from their respective days at work, they help us continue to unpack as best they can before starting dinner. In celebration not only of my move, but my recently re-acquired green 3 month chip, Annie and Finnick are coming back over, having only left in the first place to take Annie to urgent care to get her fluids after almost a fourth full day of vomiting spells. They surprise all of us when they actually ring the doorbell as opposed to just waltzing in, and as the least important person in the kitchen at the moment, Katniss goes to answer it. Coming back with her is a puffy-eyed Annie and an ashen-faced Finnick.

"What's wrong, guys?" Gale asks immediately.

"I…I…" Annie stammers. I neglect the pastry dough I'm rolling out to cut into dinner rolls so I can loop my arm around her shoulder. She melts against me gratefully.

"Finn? Are you guys okay?" Gale presses.

"That, um…that depends on what you mean by 'okay'…" he stammers.

"Are either of you dying?" Madge says, and while it sounds harsh, coming from her mouth it's incredibly gentle.

"N-no," Annie slurs against my chest.

"Did your condo burn down?" Katniss guesses.

"Nope," Finnick says. I might be imagining it, but I swear a smile begins to replace the grimace on his mouth.

"Neither of you lost your jobs, right?" I offer reluctantly.

"I'm…I'm…" Annie tries again.

"…You're pregnant, aren't you?" Madge says suddenly. I feel Annie's head nod quickly against my chest.

Smiles spread across Gale and Katniss's face, and I'm guessing mine, too.

"Guys…that's good news, isn't it?" I say.

"It's…unexpected," Finnick says, pulling Annie away from me gently and tucking her under his arm. His own smile is getting broader.

"Unexpected or not…you guys, congratulations!" Katniss says, stepping forward to hug the pair of them. I see both their features mellow a bit as she does, and when Gale and I step in. Gale and Finnick immediately start cracking jokes, easing the rest of the tension quickly. When Madge steps in to put her arms around Annie, I'm sure I'm the only one who notices a foreign, pained look in her eyes.

_She was expecting that she'd be at this stage first, _I realize. _She and Gale want it. _

"Congrats, honey," I hear Madge whisper. "You'll be a great mom."

"You and Katniss have to help me, Madge…I have no idea what I'm doing. I've never even changed a diaper before!" Annie squeaks when she pulls away.

Katniss links arms with her and teases her gently. "It's not hard. Unless it's a boy. Then it gets tricky…"

"No joke," Gale says with a wink.

"This has been a weird fucking day, guys…can we sit, hang out, all that jazz? Maybe not talk about diapers and 3:00 am feedings—balls, 3:00 am feedings…" Finnick begins as his eyes bug out of his head. He starts to look as green as Annie did all day long.

I prop his arm over my shoulder and steer him towards one of the barstools to plop down. "Don't get ahead of yourself there, Finn…you've got some time."

Katniss steers Annie to sit next to him and Gale pulls a bottle of sparkling apple cider from the fridge. You'd think my friends would get sick of this stuff, but considering that now exactly half of our group consists of non-drinkers (temporarily in Annie's case, at least), I suppose it's fortunate that Gale always seems to have a bottle stashed in there. He pops the cap and pours a glass for each of us.

"Peet, sorry your news got trumped…but to the group of us going from six to seven! So stoked for you guys, really," Gale says with a smile. Madge holds up her own glass with all the rest of us, but I see her loop her arm around her husband's waist and cast a wistful glance downward ever briefly before smiling at our friends and repeating Gale's sentiment.

A few minutes later, when she and I are back at the stove finishing what we've started for dinner, I nudge her and whisper, "One to ten, Madge."

"That's my question," she murmurs back.

"One to ten," I repeat quietly.

"…Nine," she winces, trying to deftly wipe at her eyes without anyone else noticing. I take the wooden spoon from her hand, place it on the side of the pot, and nudge her towards the hallway that'll lead out to the side porch. I announce casually we're going to smoke quickly before dinner's ready and Gale takes over our duties.

Madge is already fumbling to light up when I follow her through the door. I take the lighter and cigarette from her to do it for her and she presses it between her lips greedily when she takes it back.

"I…I really am so happy for them," she says, her voice quaking.

"I know you are," I tell her.

"I know I shouldn't be crying…" she says as the tears roll down her cheeks.

"It's okay. You know I don't judge you," I say, putting my arm around her waist and pulling her into my side, where she sobs quietly into my t-shirt.

* * *

The rest of our year is mostly uneventful. Finnick gets to travel with the 'Canes, so when he's gone, Annie tends to stay in the guest bedroom upstairs. They've both become more comfortable with their upcoming new addition, although they each have their freak-out days. There is still plenty of time before the littlest Odair makes his or her way into our lives, but I swear _I_ can see Annie's belly growing already even though everyone else says she's barely showing at all. Madge is no longer envious, but instead can't seem to talk enough about how excited she is to throw Annie a baby shower when the time comes. Katniss is more reserved: it shouldn't surprise anyone that that isn't really her shtick, although she is just as excited for our friends as any of us.

Madge and Gale head off on a two week Belizean beach vacation the same afternoon Madge is off school for winter break, leaving Katniss and me to our own devices in the house. Not that we really mind, of course. She hadn't been teasing me when she'd informed me that when Delly had been spending the night with her boyfriend Thom she'd wandered around the apartment in her underwear. Maybe it's just because I'm around, but these days, she's usually hard-pressed to be wearing a shirt, either, particularly if we have a fire going in the hearth. As such, I almost always have a fire going in the hearth, and that isn't even a metaphor.

It's not even noon when my cell phone rings the first Sunday we're alone in the house. Katniss is flipping through one of Madge's girly magazines with her feet propped up on my lap on the couch, her body in full luscious display for me, which makes the sketch I'm trying to complete that much more difficult to concentrate on. When she moves her feet surreptitiously against my groin, I tickle her ankles in retaliation, leading to not the first skirmish for control of who kisses whom we've had that morning. I ignore the ringing at first, because it's my all-purpose ringtone and I figure whoever it is can just leave a message. When it rings again, however, I reluctantly push myself off of her and reach for the phone where it sits on the coffee table.

"Peetaaaa…" she whines when my body leaves hers.

"Let me tell whoever this is to bugger off, woman, and then I'll ravish you all, sheesh," I tease. I half expect that the call will be from Effie, in which case I'll have to come up with a beyond excellent excuse for why I can't get called in that _doesn't _involve couch sex with my insatiable girlfriend. But the number isn't one I recognize offhand, so I decide better to answer and silence the phone, just in case.

"Peeta? It's Chaff Hadley, son," a gruff voice says on the other end. In general, I like my mother's boyfriend just fine—he seems to genuinely care about her, and was unendingly polite to Katniss and I when we had Thanksgiving brunch with them a few weeks ago. But this 'son' thing chaps my ass in more ways than one.

"Hey, Chaff…listen, can I call you back in twenty—ow!—thirty minutes?" I yelp when Katniss pinches my ass hard through the fabric of my workout pants.

"This'll only take a second, if you don't mind. I…well, your mother asked me not to talk to you about it after what happened back in September, but have you been following Johanna's case at all in the news?"

My heart sinks in my chest. I must wear a strange look across my face for the way Katniss stops trying to distract me and sits up and scoots closer to me, craning her neck to listen to the other side of the conversation. I put the phone on speaker before I answer.

"Honestly, no. I wasn't aware there was any news. The last I spoke to the district attorney's office, they told me I needed to have my statement ready by March, since that was the earliest her trial was going to begin," I reply. Katniss pulls a throw blanket around her shoulders and scoots ever closer, looping her arms around one of mine and resting her head on my bicep.

"That was the plan, yes, but…well, Johanna has opted to plead the case out and forgo the trial. I've managed to get on a judge's docket for her plea and sentencing before they break for the holidays. I'm well aware that you don't owe Johanna anything—I remember how hard that visit with her was last time, believe me—but I think you might want to be in attendance for the plea agreement," Chaff says, his voice completely matter-of-fact.

"Do you?" I say a little more tersely than I meant to. "And why is that?"

"A large factor in Johanna's decision to plead out has to do with you, son. She doesn't want to put you through the ordeal of a trial after—well, everything," Chaff responds.

I steal a glance at Katniss, whose eyebrows are knitted together and bottom lip is clenched tightly between her teeth. She looks like she wants to snap something into the phone, maybe end the conversation for me, but she's thinking better of it.

But at the end of the day, Katniss doesn't know Jo. Jo's primary instinct has always been one of survival, and when survival hasn't worked for her, she's tried to numb herself instead. Hence her drinking and drug problem. Jo doesn't do a lot of things for other people. It's enough to give me pause.

"Chaff, be honest with me…was my testimony really going to have any sway at all? I still can't say with absolute certainty what happened that night. I'd imagine my presenting blood alcohol content at the hospital the next morning would be evidence enough that whatever I said would be unreliable at best," I ask, squeezing Katniss's fingers as she laces hers through my own.

"In the grand scheme of things? No, probably not. That isn't what Johanna is worried about, Peeta. She's…well, she's trying. She's trying to sober up, get clean. I suppose you might even say that this…well, this is her direct amends to you, son."

"When, um…when is the trial, then? Or sentencing, whatever it is?" I say with a heavy sigh. Katniss's eyes go wide, but my fingers cling to hers like a lifeline.

"Tuesday at 11:00 am. Shouldn't take long, if your work schedule will be compromised at all," Chaff tells me.

"I'll talk to my boss. I can't make any guarantees, but if I can swing it…"

"I think it's a smart decision, Peeta. Really, I do. I think it'll bring you some tremendous closure," Chaff says, his voice sounding instantly relieved.

"Yeah, sure. Tell my mom I'll talk to her before Friday, alright?" I say quickly before I end the call. When I toss the phone back on the coffee table, Katniss snatches her hand away from mine and begins pacing back and forth in front of the fireplace. I run my hand through my hair as I prepare myself for the tirade she's about to embark upon.

"She's…she's…she's got to be using you, right?" she stammers out quickly.

"Honey, she's pleading guilty to manslaughter and who knows which other charges. I somehow doubt that there's an angle there where she can 'use' me," I tell her patiently.

"So they don't throw the book at her any harder than they already planned to!" she squeaks. "Why are you going along with this?"

Sammy pads into the living room at that exact moment and slinks in between my feet, mewling pathetically. I pick her up and place her in my lap, focusing my attention on rubbing her third eye. I think long and hard about what I need to say, how to adequately explain to her what this news has done to me and what I feel I need to do about it. "Because…Katniss, she was my friend once. She was a shitty friend, sure, and an enabler, and she definitely drove the metaphoric car that lead me to rock bottom more than once—"

"Metaphoric?!" she says haughtily.

"Can I finish, please?"

She taps her foot by way of an answer.

"Once upon a time, Johanna Mason was my Annie Cresta. She was fun to be around and her boyfriend made me laugh and called me 'brother' and for a long time, they _were_ my family. We were terrible at actually coping with anything real, but we were still family. I'm not saying I ever want her in my life again, truly, because that's behind me and I don't ever want to go back to being _that _guy, but…if there's even the slightest chance that whatever she has to say might bring me an iota of closure about what happened the day I relapsed or any of the drunken, shiny-ass nights before I sobered up in the first place…then I should try. I need to try to forgive her someday if I want to be more successful this go-round than I was last time. Can you try to understand that?" I explain gently.

Her foot stops tapping and her shoulders slump. "I—I don't want you to fail. I want you healthy. Recovered," she says with a little nod.

"I want that, too. This might be part of how I get there, baby…"

"The last time—" she squeaks, then trails off as if she thinks better of it.

"The last time what?"

"The last time you heard anything about her, you…you went off. You weren't yourself. Is that gonna happen again?"

"I hope not. I don't ever want to do that to you again, not ever. You took way more shit from me that day than you ever deserve to take from anyone. I know how unfair that was," I say, an apology almost forcing its way out. She's told me again and again to stop apologizing for that day. She's forgiven me. We've moved on. That was the Peeta that couldn't open up properly and had gotten far too complacent about taking his meds. That Peeta hasn't reared his head in months, thank God. I fucking _hate_ that Peeta.

Katniss huffs, shaking her head in an attempt to force the strands of hair worked loose from her braid to fall back behind her ears. When that doesn't work, her hands dart up to finish the job before she pulls the blanket that much tighter around her shoulders. She tiptoes around the coffee table and reclaims her seat next to me, her lip still firmly planted between her little pearl teeth.

"I want you better. If this is how you need to do it…then I'm there. I'll be there," she says slowly.

"You don't have to come, Katniss," I reassure her. "I'll be okay."

"Madge wouldn't ever forgive me if I didn't. She'd be on the first plane home, and you remember how hard it was to get her on the plane down there in the first place," she says almost wryly. She's right, of course—with everything that had happened over the summer, this long-planned vacation nearly fell by the wayside for she and Gale. I had to promise I'd email her my One to Ten number every morning and every time it fluctuated more than one or two places to even convince her to pack her suitcase. If there had ever been a time in his life that he'd wanted to clock me more, it was certainly the day Gale Hawthorne's wife threatened to call off their two-week long beach booty call in favor of her souse of a best friend and sponsoree.

"Forget Madge for one second—are you sure you want to occupy the same space as Johanna Mason, even if it's a wide open courtroom?" I ask, lacing our fingers together once more.

"I told you back in July…I want forever. If this is how I get it, then yes. I'll be there," she says with a weak smile.

My heart swells. I lean over to kiss her perfect mouth, thank her for her perfect words, disturbing a purring Sammy who darts off my lap and flicks her tail at us from across the room. I can't say I care all that much, though—not when I'm about to show Katniss just how much I appreciate her.

* * *

I stare at my side of the closet for a long time, looking but not touching any of the button down shirts in their little row on their hangers. If I don't choose one soon, Katniss and I will never get out the door fast enough to meet Finnick and Annie at Wanderer's, and I know for damn certain that if I face this day without booze _or_ caffeine that it'll be way too shitty to handle. I don't know what possesses me to do it. The shirt is too big on me and I hate the feeling of starched fabric-but something about wearing my dad's crisp white shirt is downright soothing.

"It looks really good on you, you know," Katniss says so quietly I almost don't hear her. I turn to her with the buttons half done up and her hands automatically reach out to fasten the top most ones. With it being two sizes too big, the final button at my throat actually hits me right at my sternum. She quirks her lips like she thinks better of it and pulls it open again. "Much better," she says with finality.

"I kind of look like a ragamuffin," I say sheepishly.

"Roll up the sleeves and tuck in the bottom and it'll look fine. I'm...I'm sorry it doesn't smell like him anymore," she says, her voice starting out strong and ending with a crack of her voice.

"It wasn't going to hold forever," I say nonchalantly. I adjust the fabric the way she's told me to and survey myself in the mirror again with a slight nod-it does look better this way.

"Still..."

"If I don't get to apologize again for that day, neither do you," I sigh. She smoothes the collar quickly and loops her arms around my waist from behind, the olive tone of her skin contrasting with the stark white of the material. "Thanks again for coming with me."

"Always," she whispers into my ear. I turn in her arms properly and kiss her hungrily, as if this is the last kiss she and I will share for a while. It's stupid-she'll be by my side for the rest of the day. But maybe, just maybe, this will be the last time I'll feel quite so wounded and raw. Maybe this will be the last day of the old, shiny life of my addiction and the start of something so much greater.

That's what I choose to believe when we head to the car, drive the short distance to the coffee shop, and pile into Finnick's truck to head to the courthouse. I believe it all the way up until we go through the medal detector, drop our phones in the receptical just outside the door, and settle onto a bench about a third of the way back. When my hands start to shake, Katniss and Annie's grasp onto one of each of them in turn. I'm never more appreciative of it than a few minutes after, when Johanna Mason is led in from a side room with Chaff at her side.

An officer takes a pair of handcuffs off of her. She looks frail and gaunt, like her skin is hanging off her body at weird angles. The rational side of my brain wonders when the last time she ate was while the alcoholic side wonders when the last time she used was. That's the real kicker here, even if I'm the only other person in the room who realizes it. This girl looks nothing like the enigmatic enabler of my past. This girl looks broken, run down, frightened. I can't really explain why, but just looking at her makes me want to weep for her.

I try to absorb everything that happens next, but it's too much of a blur. The judge speaks. Chaff speaks. Johanna stands. The judge reads the charges against her. Johanna pleads guilty to every single one of them. I barely process the judge asking her if she'd like to speak on her own behalf before her sentence is handed down when she's striding towards a podium with a microphone. I expect to see notecards, a piece of paper, anything in her shaky hands, but there's nothing.

Her voice is nothing like her own when she begins to speak a minute later. "I…I only wish to say that I regret my actions very deeply. More so than I can adequately describe, really. After an unfortunate event this past September, I was forced to admit to myself that I have a very real, very debilitating addiction to alcohol and recreational drugs, one I've been downplaying the severity of for years. I realize now it's cost me everything—my family, my friends, and most notably, the life of my fiance. The words 'I'm sorry' are too hollow, so I won't bother. I know I'll go to my grave regretting what happened to Cato and our third passenger that night. Those two men will never understand the gravity to which…I love them. If my admittance of blame gives either of them any peace, than I'd happily do it over and over again."

Katniss's hands clench around my palm. From the other side of Annie's shoulder, Finnick's palm clasps my shoulder. I wonder if I should be crying, if that's the next logical step here; I know what I feel instead isn't numbness. It isn't concern. It's not even emotion, not really. I'm pretty sure it's just acceptance.

Having made no compelling arguments for leniency, I watch as my former friend, the woman who ran away from me while I was strapped into her back seat unconscious and concussed receives the state-minimum sentence for driving under the influence and involuntary manslaughter. Her time spent in rehab over the last couple of months counts as time served. But still, she'll be going away for several years, minus a scant few months for good behavior. She is as impassive as I've ever seen her in this moment, despite not being able to get a really good look at her face. If I had to draw her, she'd be a blank stare with a firm line of a mouth. Her eyes wouldn't be puffy or red. She'd just…be.

The bang of the judge's gavel makes me startle. Johanna is re-handcuffed and ushered out of the room. I stand up as straight and tall as my stature will allow and search for Jo's eyes amongst the throng of people standing up to leave the courtroom. It's only by a little bit of luck that her gaze meets mine.

For the shortest second, I swear she winks at me. Gives me the tiniest of tiny patented Johanna Mason grins. But I know instantly that her eyes would never have been full enough of sadness or remorse had I tried to draw her just a moment prior, because surely she'll wear that same look for days, for weeks, for years to come.

_Bye, Jo. I'm sorry. I don't hate you, _I say in my head. Her head nods once quickly, as though she's heard my thoughts as clear as if I'd spoken them directly into her ear. Then the foreman nudges her through the same side door she'd entered and I know for certain that this time, she really is gone forever from my life.

"Baby?" I hear Katniss say, her hand coming to rest on the small of my back. Between she, Finnick, and Annie, I've never seen someone look quite so nervous before.

"I'm good," I say slowly. I mean it.

"Ready to head out, then?" Finnick asks.

"Yeah," I nod quickly.

"Madge wanted me to ask…one to ten?" Annie whispers quietly to me as we follow the last few people out of the courtroom. I think long and hard about my answer.

"Four," I say confidently.

"Is that good?" Annie asks.

"About as good as it can be," I tell her with a soft smile. My fingers intertwine with Katniss's once again as we head to the car. I'm grateful she's there to ground me, because once more, I feel an incredible lightness take over my body, as if I would float away just as soon as keep my feet firmly on the ground.

* * *

**Thank you a thousand times over to my amazing beta _sohypothetically, _who still gets emotional over the things I do to Recovery!Peeta, even when she's already read the chapters before.**

**A side note: Recovery!Peeta's journey is quickly coming to its inevitable end. There are three chapters left after this one, including the epilogue, and a couple of outtakes that will be posted on my Ao3 account. I cannot begin to tell you all how much I appreciate your feedback on this story. I hope you enjoy the ending I have in store for our boy. In the meantime, I'll continue posting insights into his world on my fic-dedicated Tumblr page: alltherightfriendsff. Stop on by anytime.**


	26. Maybe You're Too Old to Remember

_Who's to say we won't stay together?_

_Who's to say we aren't getting stronger?_

_Who's to say I can't live without you?_

_Who are they anyway? _

_Anyway they don't know_

_And you say we're too young, but maybe you're too old to remember_

_And I try to pretend, but I just feel it when we're together…_

…_Stand up boy, I shine so bright when you're around_

-Vanessa Carlton

* * *

When Madge and I pull up to Wanderer's for another group evening of hanging out with Katniss at Open Mic night, we find her sitting outside in the smokers' area with Serenity. We walk up to them with our eyebrows raised slightly: Katniss is wearing sunglasses despite it already being dark. Serenity blows out a lung-full of smoke and points to my girlfriend.

"You need to take this poor girl home, Peet," she explains.

"What's wrong, Kat?" Madge asks, taking an offered cigarette from Serenity.

"I had a headache this morning that's decided to become a full-on migraine," Katniss says quietly. I kneel in front of her and put my hands delicately on her temples. Even the light pressure of my hands is enough to make her flinch. "Ren's my relief. I don't think I trust my eyes to drive home myself."

"Poor baby," I say, kissing her knuckles lightly. "Come on, I'll take you home and put you to bed."

"I'll drive your car home, Kat," Madge says as I lead her towards my car. "Want to come back and hang out with us, Peeta?"

"Maybe. If not I'll see you kids later, okay?" I tell her, waving to Serenity as I tuck Katniss into the passenger seat of my car and nudge the seat back so she can recline back. As I'm getting into the car, Serenity waves me back over quickly. Katniss is covering her face with her arms, so I jog back over and lean my face down so she can whisper something to me.

"She didn't want me to tell you, so I promised. But ask her about Boston," Serenity says.

"What?"

"Just ask her. When she's feeling better. Make her talk to you, I know she needs to even if she's trying to avoid it," she says to me.

"Um...okay. I'll see you later, Ren," I say before sliding back behind the wheel of my car. I pull out of the parking lot and rest my hand against Katniss's knee. "Not nauseated, are you?"

"Not really. I just couldn't take three hours of bongos and harmonicas and light," she murmurs.

"I don't blame you. It hurt that much when I touched your temples, huh?" I ask.

"Yeah. I don't think I've ever had one this bad, even when I was writing for ten-hour stretches. I can't even see straight," she admits.

"I'll stay home and take care of you, then," I tell her.

"You should go back out. We haven't gotten to see Finnick in weeks," she says half-heartedly.

"Yeah, but you're not feeling well and that trumps everything else. I'll see him later."

She tries to object but I know she isn't in any state to. When I pull into my usual spot in the driveway, I pick her up out of the front seat and carry her into the house. Sammy meows at us in confused greeting and I nudge her away from my feet as I lead us up the stairs.

"Where we going?" she asks from her place in my arms.

"You're going to borrow Madge's bathtub. If it's a tension migraine the warm water should relax you a bit. Close your eyes, I need to turn on the light for a second," I say as I set her delicately on the vanity and double back to the light switch. Madge keeps a bevvy of flameless candles scattered around the tub for this very reason, so once I switch them all on, I flip the light back off. Katniss removes her hands from her face and gives me a small smile as I start to fill the tub with hot water and mix in some of the fancy bath salts I'd gotten Madge for Christmas.

"Are you gonna join me in there?" she asks a little optimistically.

I can't help but smirk. "Maybe. But no funny business, this is supposed to be therapeutic. Now get naked, woman."

"Because _that's _professional," she giggles.

"Sentiment still stands," I say with a grin as I test the water and adjust the taps slightly. She's beside me naked as the day she was born just a minute later. She gingerly dips a toe in the water and hums lightly as she steps in the rest of the way, sinking beneath the hazy, scented water with a satisfied look spread across her face.

"That's perfect, babe. Why do we not do this all the time?" she says as I kill the taps.

"Because Madge is usually in here. Bit awkward, that," I joke, toeing off my shoes and socks and removing my work pants but nothing more. I move over to where her shoulders press against the back of the tub and perch with just my lower legs submerged behind her shoulders. "Still comfy?"

"You need to trim your toenails, but yes," she says, leaning her head against one of my calves.

"Sorry, sorry…I'll watch where I put my feet," I say, resting my hands incredibly lightly on top of her scalp. I wait for her to wince like she did outside the coffee shop; when she doesn't, I press the pads of my fingers lightly against her skull and move them around incredibly gently. I'm rewarded by a satisfied moan leaving her throat. "Alright there?"

"I'll tell you if suddenly I'm not, promise. You suppose a head massage will actually get rid of this thing?" she asks in a whisper.

"I'm pretty good at getting rid of migraines at work. Remember that first massage I gave you? That made you better, right?"

"In a lot of ways," she says before she hisses slightly. "Ow. Little less."

I adjust my pressure and stroke the tender spot behind her left ear gingerly with my thumb. "Sorry. Better?"

"Mmmhmm…" she breathes and sinks a little deeper into the tub. It makes working down to her neck and shoulders a bit more awkward, since I have to bend farther at the waist than is necessarily comfortable, but it helps that I'm touching her so feather-lightly due to how sensitive her muscles suddenly are. "Are you sure I can't convince you to do this more often? Or is that therapeutic honor code too deeply ingrained?"

"I don't know if it's so much an honor code as much as it is I just don't want to work outside of work. It's nothing personal, you realize. Do you want to make espresso drinks on your mornings off?"

"I can't make espresso drinks outside of work. At-home espresso machines suck," she points out.

"Fair enough. But if you ever really are hurting too much to function, I'll bend the rules for you, I promise," I tell her with a smile. The same smile plays across her face as I finish kneading the tops of her shoulders to mush and run my fingers through her damp, matted hair. "Is that a little less terrible?"

"You have no idea. _Now _will you join me before the water gets much colder?" she says playfully.

"Yeah, what the hell, you're not my client anymore now," I laugh and kiss the top of her head before scooting my feet out from behind her and standing up again. I run the hot tap to re-warm the water while I rid myself of the rest of my clothes and ease myself gently in behind her, careful not to overflow the tub. She rests against my chest with a sigh and our fingers lace together under the steamy, eucalyptus-scented water. "Madge'll kill us if we do anything funny in here, you know?"

"I feel better but not _that _much better," she groans in response.

Our feet bump together playfully and I kiss the backs of her ears as we float there. I think back to what Serenity had said outside Wanderer's, about asking her about Boston. I debate asking her about it now, but the silence broken only by the occasional lap of water against the side of the tub is a little too soothing for both of us, I think.

"What's that thing that Madge is always asking you?" she whispers after a few minutes.

"Which thing? Madge grills me a lot, if you haven't noticed; it's part of her being my sponsor," I murmur back.

"The number thing," she says. "The thing she made Annie ask you at…the thing last month."

"My one to ten number? That's…it's her way of gauging how badly I might want a drink at any given moment. If it's high she knows she has to calm me down and get me a cigarette. If it's low she lets it go until the next time it pops into her head to ask. I didn't realize you noticed that," I say with a shrug.

"I notice everything about you, thank you very much. Can…can anyone ask you about it?" she asks.

"I suppose there's no rule about it one way or another," I reply.

"Okay…so right now…how badly do you want a drink? One to ten?" she whispers, arching her neck back a little to look at me while I answer.

"Right now? Right now I'm naked in a bathtub with my girlfriend. I'm doing pretty okay," I say with a smirk.

"Be serious, Peeta. You don't tease Madge when she asks," Katniss says, rolling her eyes.

"Sorry. A three," I answer as I press a kiss to the back of her ear.

"That's good, right?"

"That's about as good as it gets. It's usually pretty low when I'm around you."

"Good," she says, wrapping my arms tightly around her chest and burrowing her head into the crook of my neck.

We drain the tub a few minutes later when my fingertips pucker and her headache makes her sleepy. We sneak downstairs wrapped up in borrowed towels and stretch out on our bed unclothed and tightly snuggled in one another's arms. If she asked again, I'd tell her I'm closer to a two by the time we each drift off to sleep.

* * *

When I wake up in the morning and gaze over at Katniss, I see her typing furiously into her phone. I actually startle her when she looks over and sees I'm awake. This is a difficult thing to do: she says I walk and move too loudly to ever surprise her.

"Did I wake you?" she gasps.

"No, going to bed before 10 last night woke me. How's your headache?" I ask, stretching before wrapping my arms around her and tucking her into my side.

"Mostly better. Last night helped quite a bit, I think."

"Good. What time is it?"

"A little before seven."

"Dear God, and we're awake? How is that fair?"

"We were in bed before 10, remember," she says with an impish grin before the scowl I'd seen as she typed into her phone reappears on her face.

"What's wrong, then?" I ask, kissing her temple lightly and playing with her hair.

"Nothing. Why would anything be wrong?" she says a little too defensively.

"Come on, Katniss. You don't expect me to believe that tone of voice, do you?"

"It's nothing, Peeta, I just had to return a very pushy email, that's all."

She folds herself against my chest and her fingertips tickle my sides. I whack her hand away after a minute when she gets a little more deliberate with it. "Don't start that this early…you know I always win that game," I say teasingly.

"Maybe I want you to win, ever thought of that?" she says playfully. I sneak a peek at her face. She's still scowling, despite the lighthearted words on her lips.

"Fine, before we play this game, then…I have a question for you," I say, grasping her hands in mine and holding them against my chest.

"One question and make it quick…I'm horny…" she whines.

"Tell me about Boston," I say.

Her face falls and she tries to pull away from me but I won't let her. "Who tol—_fuck_, Ren."

"She didn't say anything specific. She just told me to ask you about Boston. So what's the deal with Boston?"

"It's the largest city in the commonwealth of Massachusetts. It's the capital as well," she says haughtily.

"That I remember from middle school geography. Tell me why Ren told me to ask you about it," I press.

"I…it's not important, Peeta," she says, finally breaking our embrace and scooting to the side of the bed. She yanks on a pair of pajamas and pads across the room towards the bathroom.

"Clearly it is, or you wouldn't be so defensive about it. What's the deal with Boston, Katniss? Tell me, please?" I say as I get up to follow her. She slams the bathroom door in my face.

"Leave it alone, Peeta," she calls through the door.

"No. Tell me," I call back, jiggling the locked doorknob.

"I'm peeing in here, fuck!" she squeals from the other side.

"Then I'll wait. But you can't stay in there forever," I challenge her. I fold my arms across my chest and lean against the doorframe for several long minutes. I hear the toilet flush, the sink run, and the sound of her brushing her teeth on the other side. She's taking a ridiculous amount of time to do all these things, probably because of what I said. It wouldn't be unlike Katniss to subvert my words the best way she knows how. "If you don't tell me, I'll start guessing. I'm a pretty good guesser."

"Yeah right," she calls back, her voice muffled from the toothpaste undoubtedly swirling around inside her mouth.

"Fuck, Katniss, why don't you want to tell me? It's just a simple question—you can ask me a thousand to make up for it later," I groan as I shake my head, getting more and more frustrated her by the second.

"Because I don't want to have this fight with you, so will you just let it go?"

"No. Tell me. Or I'll pester you for the rest of the day with guesses."

The door swings open so fast I almost fall through it. Her scowl is so prevalent I forget for a second what her face looks like without it. Petulance oozes out of her pores. Her eyes are like daggers. This is the Katniss I remember from high school. "I could fucking kill Ren, I swear."

"Later. Right now we talk," I say seriously. "What's wrong? Why are you so upset about me asking this? You're the one who wants to talk about what's going on in my head all the time, you could at least pay me the same courtesy."

She opens her mouth to say something but must think better of it, and closes it again immediately. "God damn it."

"I can't decide if this is worrying me more than it's pissing me off, Katniss. Talk."

"Fine!" she says, throwing her hands up in the air and pushing past me to settle on our bed again. She crosses her arms and legs against the pillows and stares at her lap. "Haymitch called me yesterday after you left for work and told me about a job opening with a guy he knows. It's a six month project being financed through MIT trying to work out a new way to make solar energy more affordable and practical. Engineers, environmental scientists, mathematicians…there's a small but very elite group working on it."

"Um…why would that make you upset? Weren't you pestering Gale a couple of months ago about installing panels up on the roof?" I say, settling across from her and petting Sammy's spine when she hops up onto the bed between us.

"It's a great project. It could absolutely revolutionize the way our society views solar energy. The reason I'm pissed is because Haymitch gave the head of the program my name and resume without even _asking _me," she snaps.

I gape at her. "Your faculty advisor is still trying to get you a job _in your field _and you're pissed at him? Katniss, that makes zero sense."

"Did you not hear the words 'six months' and 'Boston'?" she says harshly.

"You'd have to move to Boston for six months. Which, by the way, I've heard is a beautiful city with a lot of amazing tourist attractions that was one of the epicenters of the founding of our freaking country back in the day, but what do I know, I dropped out of college and got a trade degree instead. Yeah, I can see how being attached to a ground-breaking solar energy project as a woman with a Masters in Environmental Science would be pretty lame in comparison to shilling $4 espresso beverages all day. Katniss, are you _insane_?" I scoff. "Haymitch did you a _massive _favor! You…fuck, Katniss, you didn't turn him down, did you?"

"I have a job here. I have a life here. I'm not uprooting my entire life at the drop of a hat when I wasn't even asked if I wanted to. I absolutely told him no," she says flatly. Her eyes land square on my bare chest. It takes me a second to realize she's staring at the chips on my necklace.

"You…you said no because of me, didn't you?" I gape at her.

"Not _only _because of you," she murmurs.

"Liar. Katniss, you can't throw away this opportunity because of _me_! You think I could live with myself if I was the one who held you back from a shot like that? Because I certainly couldn't."

"It's a bad time, Peeta. There's too much going on here, I can't just drop everything and—"

"When's gonna be a good time? When you have to defer your student loan repayments because Wanderer's doesn't pay you enough to make a living wage _and _pay back your debt? Oh, wait, I forgot…"

"Fuck you. You make more money than I do, I get it, okay?"

"That has nothing to do with it, and you know it. Tell me honestly: if I hadn't relapsed last summer, if I was over a year sober and not on antidepressants and anxiety meds and seeing a shrink twice a week, would you have turned this down? What, do you think I'm gonna relapse again just because you have to move away for six months?"

"Yes!" she snaps. As soon as the word escapes her mouth her hands clasp over it and tears well in her eyes. The volume of her word sends Sammy skittering off like a gun shot.

It's my turn to feel a headache coming on. I pinch the bridge of my nose hard and shake my head. "How many times do I have to tell you and Madge—July 30th was not. About. You. It was _my _mistake. It was my time to fuck up and backslide. It was my decision. It had nothing to do with how the two of you treat me or how much I love you. It had everything to do with how much I didn't love myself and that's _it. _Jesus, Katniss…do you really not get that?"

"I love you," she whimpers. "I don't want to fuck this up by leaving you, not when I still don't understand your disease…"

"You staying…you giving up an opportunity like this because you're afraid of how I'm going to react is…Katniss, _that's _the sort of thing that would fuck this up. You resenting me in a few years because you stayed here with me instead of making your mark on the world—how would that not weaken us? How is that fair to us? How is that fair to you?" I say, my voice softening considerably. I hate seeing her cry. I hate the two of us yelling like this. But I _know _I'm right—if she gave this up on my account, it would hurt us. Maybe not irreparably. Maybe not as badly as my drinking. But I can't chance it—_we _can't chance it.

"So where would it leave us, then?" she says, wiping at her cheeks angrily before gesturing between herself and I.

"What do you mean?" I ask, my eyebrows rising on my forehead.

"If I go up there and interview and get the gig, what happens to us? Where will we be?"

"…You'll be in Boston and I'll be here."

"You wouldn't come with me?"

"I can't uproot my life for six months when it isn't _my _job, Katniss. Do you honestly think it would make any sense for me to go with you?"

"So we'd break up, that's what you're saying." Her eyes suddenly stop being misty and start looking angry instead.

"Why…where is that coming from? It's six months…" I stammer.

"Because _I'd _be in Boston. And _you'd _be here," she says, turning my words against me.

"You'd be in Boston, not Ethiopia. And it'd be six months, not an eternity. Why do you think we need to break up?"

"Because home for me is where you are, Peeta. If you aren't going to be there, what's the point?"

I rub my face angrily. We'd had such a nice night…

"So, you're saying unless I come with you, you won't take the job. And if you take the job and I won't come, that's it. We've been together almost a year and gotten through that fucking Dark Day in July and _this…this _is what'll break us up? That's bullshit, Katniss, and you know it. Stop trying to make excuses for why you won't try for this. Or if this is your excuse to break up with me, just fucking do it so I can go…" I trail off, looking around the room for my shoes and cigarettes.

"Go drink? Is that what you're going to do?" she yelps.

"No! Jesus!" I holler back.

"One to ten, Peeta," she barks.

"I call a pause," I say back. It's Gale and Madge's thing, not ours—they opt to pause an argument when one of them starts getting too upset to continue rationally, give themselves a breather so they can come back to it when they've calmed and actually talk it out instead of continue fighting—but I need this to stop before she accuses me of wanting something I can't have.

"Not until you answer me," she says lowly. "One to ten. Tell me."

"…Seven. Eight," I admit defeatedly.

"You said it's always low when you're around me," she whispers.

"I said usually. It's usually low when I'm around Annie or my clients at work, too. _Usually_. If you think a day comes and goes that the number doesn't spike at least once, that I don't want _anything _to drink at least for a split second, then no, you really don't understand this disease. You can't control my disease any more than I can. All you can control is your life and your choices, and I'll always support you because I want you to be happy and I want you to be successful. I want to pay you back for what you've done for me this past year. Now I call a pause before we say anything else nasty," I say shakily.

She looks at me challengingly; it's like she can't decide if she wants to slap me or kiss me and make me take her to bed. The latter wouldn't be terrible, all things considered. It might clear our heads, get some of our aggression out—clearly we have more than enough of that between the pair of us.

Instead I grab a sweatshirt off the back of a chair and slip my feet into a pair of house shoes. My cigarettes are in my palm before I start trudging up the basement stairs. "We're not done talking about this," I call back over my shoulder as I make my way into the living room and through the side door to the porch. If I'd bothered to lift my fierce gaze from the ground, I would have seen Gale and Madge gaping at me from the kitchen, already dressed and ready for their respective work days. As it is, I don't notice Madge until she plops down next to me on the porch and steals one of my cigarettes.

"Thought you'd have already left for work," I say to her vacantly.

"It's a late start day, the kids won't be there until 10:30. Were you two fighting down there?" she asks pointedly.

"It was just a disagreement, Madge," I say through a puff of smoke.

"It sounded an awful lot like a fight to us," she replies.

"Yeah, well Gale and Katniss never did finish soundproofing that basement, now did they?" I sneer.

"One to ten," she demands.

"Fuck, I already answered this once today, can I just not?"

"Who asked you?"

"Who else have I talked to today?"

"Katniss? Why is she…what the hell happened, Peeta?"

"We're on a pause from it. We just need a breather and we'll work it out. It'll be fine," I choke out.

_What if it isn't fine?_

"I'm gonna go call for a substitute," she says slowly.

"Don't do that, I'm fine," I insist.

"No, you aren't. Neither is she," she responds.

"I have to work at 10 anyway, there's no point in you…look, I appreciate it, but I have it handled. This isn't going to turn into July 30th again, alright? We need a little bit of space for the day and then we'll talk it through tonight. Quieter, I imagine. Sorry you guys had to hear that…"

"Then answer the question if you're so 'fine'."

"Five. I have a cigarette in my hand, so I'm at a five. Madge, please…I need to think a little, okay?"

"…I'm keeping my phone on today. Will you promise to call?"

"Yes, Madge. Now…please? Please stop hovering so I can think?"

She looks conflicted, but finally she kisses my cheek softly and goes back inside. I burn through the majority of my cigarette pack while my brain races and races, going through every good and bad scenario that might be possible when Katniss and I pick back up this argument. All I know for certain is that I love her. And she loves me, too. We've been through hell together, and yet here we are—the potential that she might have to move away from me for six months can't possibly be what breaks us, not after everything I've done that would have driven most normal girls away. This won't be the end—I won't let this be the end. I'll fight tooth and nail for her before I let this break us, because I know she's worth it.

I have a workday to get through, so I push the worrying thought of whether or not she thinks _I'm _worth it to the very back of my brain.

I just can't afford to think like that.

* * *

I come home to a full house, at least by our house's standards. Madge has a pot of milk simmering on the stove that she's adding cocoa powder and spices to. Gale and Katniss are sitting at the formal dining table, whispering quickly to one another. Sammy is purring softly from her lap, batting at her hands when she takes them away for a moment to push her hair behind her ears or run her fingers along her temples. When I head into the kitchen and look at Madge for an explanation, she looks at me sympathetically.

"Kat told Gale everything this morning. I know the pair of you have things to discuss, but this sort of effects all of us. We're going to be a part of the conversation, just at first. Make sure you two are staying rational," she explains.

_Ah. So they'll be refereeing this fight to make sure neither of us says anything we'd regret._

The thought makes me angry at first, but I push it back and take the mugs she offers me into the dining room. Gale smiles at me softly. Katniss stares down at the cat in her lap, pointedly ignoring that I've arrived. Maybe mediation isn't so bad when she's in a mood like this.

Madge settles into a seat next to me and takes a few nervous sips of her cocoa. Finally, she clears her throat and looks between Katniss and I. "I know this is hard, guys, but for whatever it's worth—this is fixable. We just want to help."

"But the pair of you need to stay calm…especially you, Catnip," Gale says, nudging Katniss's elbow. She finally looks up at me, her scowl etched deeply on her face as she sighs.

"I'm calm," she says flatly.

"So am I," I say with a nod.

"Kat, go on," Madge says.

"This job in Boston would be a huge opportunity for me," Katniss says slowly. "The fact that you think I was turning it down for the wrong reasons hurt me. My reasons make perfect sense to me."

"I'm sure they do," I respond. "Could you explain them a little better so that _I _understand them?"

"The timing is bad. I don't think I'm emotionally ready to pick up and leave my home for six months if I get it, no matter how good the opportunity is. I'm _finally _feeling settled. I like feeling settled. And no, my job isn't what I went to school for, and no, I don't make a lot of money. But my coworkers are great. The job itself is fun. I don't hate going to work every day like I thought I might. Can you just appreciate for a moment that that's honestly the case for me? That I like how my life is right now and I don't want to uproot everything and shoot all of that to hell?" she says, her eyes boring into mine.

"I can appreciate that. I'm happy that you're happy where you are—I never said I wasn't," I tell her.

"You weren't the only factor in my decision. You were a factor, but you weren't the only one. That's all I'm trying to say," she repeats.

"I understand that," I respond. "But can I ask a question?"

"Yes," she says, staring down at her lap again.

"If you _didn't_ like working at the coffee shop, if you _weren't _so settled, if none of that was a factor—would I be enough of a factor to make you still turn this interview down?" I ask.

She chews on the corner of her lip. "I…I'm not sure."

I rub my hand along my jaw and look at Madge for help. She shrugs her shoulders meekly and grabs my freehand under the table. "The idea that _I'm _the one holding you back hurts _me, _Katniss," I say finally. "I don't want to be that guy that you give up your dream for so we can get married and have babies and have a perfect little white-picket-fence sort of life. I'm pretty sure we all know that that isn't what you want. Not yet, anyway."

"I might…one day…"

"I might one day, too. But we have _time _for that. We don't have to forsake that just because our friends are married and having kids already. That's a fantastic pace for them, but that doesn't mean that's how it has to work for us," I tell her.

"For whatever it's worth, Catnip, I agree with Peet," Gale says to her calmly. "I don't see the two of you getting married yet. Getting a mortgage, having kids—all that'll come when it does, but it doesn't need to come right now. Right now you have lives you need to live. If you give up on this job from the get-go because it'll force you out of 'being settled'…you'll regret it. And that won't be good for either of you. That sort of bitterness ruins relationships. And I want to see the pair of you get your happily ever after. You both deserve it."

"I agree, too. I think you have plenty of time to get settled, but who knows when a shot like this will come along again?" Madge says to her.

"And just because you _might _move to Boston…that doesn't mean we're over. Long-distance sucks, but it wouldn't be forever. You did your waiting for me—I'm happy to wait for you," I say.

"I don't want to ask you to do that…not after everything…"

"Peeta's earning his 6 month coin back in a couple of weeks, Kat. He's not as breakable as you and I think he is sometimes," Madge says to her. This is an odd comment to hear her say, because I certainly don't _feel _breakable most days. I'm not sure if Katniss and Madge viewing me as breakable is just part of their overarching concern for my well-being, or something I should actually be sort of offended by.

"It doesn't seem like something the girlfriend of an alcoholic should do," Katniss clarifies. "Make him wait for her for months on end when he needs her support. When he needs consistency and normalcy and routine to keep sober. If me moving away for six months caused you to use again, I'd never forgive _myself_."

"Katniss, what's stopping me from using right now? Honestly? Yes, routine and consistency are good, but it all boils down to me. I don't want it to sound like I don't appreciate your help, all of you, but this is _my_ battle. It isn't fair to expect any one person to keep me sober. That's why all of you are helpful, but in the end—it's me. I don't want to make you my crutch in this. That isn't fair for you. Do you think that's what I've done?"

"No. If anything, I want to help you _more _than you let me do now."

"You're doing everything you can. Madge is doing everything she can. So are Gale, and Finn, and Annie, my mom, Hazelle…I have to save myself. If I expect one of you to singlehandedly save me, I've already lost," I tell her. "You _all _make me want to fight for this. And I have enough fight left in me to fight for you, too, but I can only do that if you do the same. I'm not giving up on us just because you might be in Boston in a few weeks…I think of all the things that could possibly break us, a two-hour flight is way at the bottom of the list."

Katniss drops her gaze again to her lap. I can hear Sammy purring again for a minute before suddenly she yowls as she's dropped to the floor when Katniss pushes her chair away from the table and jumps to her feet.

"Here's the deal," she says tersely, looking at all of us in turn. "This is my life. It's my decision. I know it effects all of you—some more than others—but it's my decision. I'll…I'll be back later."

She's heading for the front door so fast it makes our heads spin.

"Catnip!" Gale calls after her.

"Katniss!" Madge and I call at the same time.

"Later," she snaps back before the door slams.

We three sit in stunned silence for a minute. Gale eventually puts his hand on my forearm and clears his throat. "She'll be back, brother. She just needs to—"

"Yeah. It's fine," I tell him halfheartedly. I'm not sure it is, but I feel the need to say it anyway. It's _something_. Which is slightly more than I feel right now.

"We, um…we can go to Hazelle's for dinner still," Madge stammers. "She invited us over earlier but we told her we all needed to…"

"You guys go on ahead. I think I'm in for the night," I say, pushing back from the table and capturing Sammy in my arms quickly.

"Are you sure, Peet?" Madge says. She has that look in her eyes, the look that always immediately precedes the question.

"Five, Madgie. I'm good. I'm gonna…I dunno, go downstairs and think a while myself. I've got laundry to do anyway," I tell her. I'm not actually lying. Five is a good number, middle of the road. It works when you're not sure if you've just been walked out on or if there's still hope.

_There has to still be hope_, I remind myself.

"Our phones will be on. Let us know if you need anything," Gale says, ending the disagreement before Madge can start it.

"I will. Have a good night, guys," I say as I head for the basement stairs.

* * *

Menial tasks permeate my evening. But it's going through the motions. Going through the motions is helpful. I strip the bed of linens and wash them along with all our towels. I iron my work uniforms and hang up our clothes side by side in the closet, because that's where they belong.

_That's where they belong._

I improvise a simple dinner even though I feel a little too numb to actually be hungry. After I wash and dry the dishes, I head back downstairs and check my phone. Unsurprisingly, I have several new texts from Madge, 'just to check in'. I respond to them with a simple **Still fine, Madgie.** and hunker down at Katniss's desk with my sketch pad.

Sammy curls up on top of my feet as my hands create drawing after drawing. Nothing really important comes to life on my pages, just simple things: the fireplace in the living room flickering brightly with a live fire; the way I remember the trees near the Hawthorne's cabin looking as Katniss and I floated in the lake at sunset; the small swell of Annie's belly underneath her work uniform, now proudly boasting that she's carrying the newest member of our weird little family.

_Katniss might not be here when the baby's born. She might not be here for your first 'anniversary', whenever it was you both officially decided you were together and giving this a shot. Your birthdays, Father's day, the anniversary of the Dark Day…she might be in Cambridge. _

"I'll wait for her," I tell my sub-conscience. Because I know I will. All my life I've been waiting for Katniss Everdeen. Waiting to see her smile. Hear her voice. Waiting to be a good enough man for her at last.

It's nearly 11 when Madge pads down the stairs to announce that she and Gale are home and heading to bed.

"She's still not home," she observes when she sees me still bent over the desk and entirely alone.

"Nope," I concur.

"Have you heard from her?" she presses.

"Nope," I repeat.

"Want me to call her, just to check in?"

"She's a big girl, Madge. She knows her way home."

"Are you staying up to wait for her?"

"Maybe. I'm not tired, so…"

She presses a light kiss to my temple before turning back for the stairs. "Give me a holler if you need anything?"

I nod idly before calling after her solely on instinct. "I'm _not_ breakable, you know."

She sighs heavily as she turns around to face me. She nods. "I know. I'm..."

"It's okay. I just thought I'd remind you, that's all."

"'Night, Peeta."

"'Night Madge," I call after her.

I'm not sure how much longer I sketch before my fingers start to cramp. I snap out the little light on the corner of the desk and turn in the chair to stand up when I see her. I swear, one of these days I'll hear her sneak up on me.

"Hi," she says quietly.

I swallow hard before I speak. "I'm glad you're home," I tell her, my voice heavy and thick.

"I did my thinking. I told you all I'd be back," she says, running her fingernails along the wall briefly before stepping forward. She bends at the waist and plugs in the Christmas lights she'd hung that first night in the house—she's never taken them down, and I can't say I'd want her to…they're a nice lighting change sometimes.

"I'm sorry if…if you felt like we ganged up on you," I say quietly.

"It's okay," she says halfheartedly. "You all meant well. Especially you."

"I want you to be happy, Katniss. That much won't ever change," I tell her.

"_You _make me happy, Peeta," she says, her eyes fixed on mine.

My mind wanders back in time briefly, back to the time my cheeks were chubbier and my voice was higher and I'd still never seen Katniss smile. Something about her words embolden me and I get to my feet. Her eyes follow me, begging me silently to explain what I'm doing and why. I hold up a finger to her to tell her without words just _to wait._

The box is dusty and tattered, but only because it's been untouched since the move and who knows how long before that. At one point it had been the box that housed my father's ten year anniversary present to my mother in: a Slovak crystal vase with deep etchings all along the sides. In one of her fits, Mom had thrown it at Rye after he'd forgotten to unload the dishwasher. The box had become a receptacle for things I didn't want anyone else to find. A flask of gin had been tucked in here ages and ages ago, until I lived on my own and didn't have to hide it anymore.

I rifle through the box briefly before my hands close around it. Then I move quickly to my bookshelf and pull off another. I resettle myself at the desk and beckon her towards me.

"I um…I thought I might show you some things…" I say by way of explanation as I snap the desk lamp back on. Her fingers run over the binding of my ratty sketch books while her eyes look to me for reassurance.

"But…you hate it when I pester you to look…"

"You're not pestering me now, are you? Go ahead," I tell her.

She stands right at my side as she flips through the book, careful not to tear any of the yellowing pages. It was probably the first proper sketch book I owned, something I bought with my allowance when I was 14 or so and realized notebook paper wasn't terribly good for proper drawing. Of course, at 14, my skills were pretty paltry: pages and pages are spent trying to draw a decent looking desk chair or apple. Midway through the book I'd moved onto eyes. It's about here that the noise in Katniss's throat that is usually reserved for when she's hopelessly turned on catches here and now.

"Is that…um…"

"It was supposed to be you. We were in the same Geometry class sophomore year, remember?"

"Not really, sorry…but…is that what I looked like?" she asks, running her fingernail over the rough lines and shading.

"That's as good as I was capable of drawing you at the time," I shrug.

"At the time?" she asks.

"Keep looking through, if you'd like," I tell her.

So she does. Some of the sketches are better than others. They span about two years, I can tell, because the last few pages are filled with the faces of people like Madge and our friends that threw the parties where we began drinking. But some part of Katniss takes up a small space on every page: wispy strands of hair escaping from her braid, lips quirked in a scowl, soft eyelashes framing grey colored pupils. The girl in my lap gnaws on the side of her lip pensively as she studies them.

"You can look at this one next, if you'd like," I say, nudging a much newer book at her. Her lithe fingers begin the process of turning the pages again as her rear end settles itself down onto my lap. This book I'm not so proud of: the first third are drawings I'd attempted before I sobered up the first time. Blurry images of Cato and Johanna's faces, bowls of bar peanuts, and shot glasses colored in with amber colored pencils populate the early pages. She turns away from those quickly, as though she understands these were not good memories of mine. Her eyes linger over the middle images I've drawn with a still shaky recovery hand: Madge in her wedding dress during one of the fittings she dragged me to when Tessa and Posy's bickering was out of control; Hazelle and Gale setting the Hawthorne's dining room table, Finnick and Annie washing their hands in the break room sink and smiling that coy little smile they reserve just for one another. Her voice catches again when she comes across the wedding pictures, the ones I'd drawn in the early days of longing to see her again but being too chicken to call her: her dress twirling on the dance floor, her holding my phone as she gave her speech, her wrapped up in Gale's arms in a teary hug. My hand was steadier then. The lines were better. No one looking at the images who knows her could mistake the portraits as anyone else.

"Peeta…these are beautiful…" she whispers.

"I don't know about all that…but you are an easy subject to draw sometimes," I say with a quirk of my lips.

"Why are you showing these to me? Now, of all times?" she says, turning on my knee and looking into my eyes.

"Because…what I told you the first time we made love was true. I've wanted you forever. You were the first girl I ever really noticed and I never _stopped _noticing you. I just never knew how to talk to you the way you were in high school and now I understand why, but…I never stopped thinking about you. My heart leaped up into my throat the first time Madge told me you'd be at the wedding. And it pounded so hard I could have sworn the entire room could hear it when you talked to me, when you danced with me, when you kissed my cheek that first time. I was telling you the truth: I didn't know how to act around you at first because I couldn't believe you were giving me the time of day," I say slowly, it being my turn to chew on the corner of my mouth.

"I have a hard time believing I didn't give you the time of day sooner," she admits.

"Katniss, I've been in love with you since we were teenagers. That's why I didn't 'think' I knew it back in June—I've known the better part of my life. You're my favorite person on the planet. You challenge me, you make me smile, you give me something to fight for every single day. And I guess…I guess six months doesn't seem like that bad of a deal when you figure in that I loved you quietly for seven years without seeing you once. I honestly believe that if we could get through my relapse and my funk and everything involving Johanna and still be happy with one another, six months of you doing what you've been driven to do since you started college is nothing. Six months will make us stronger. I've been sober again for almost that long. It's not a lifetime or anything; it's like 180 days. That's nothing, Katniss…that's nothing in comparison to how long I loved you before I had the guts to tell you."

I don't realize that tears are slipping down my cheeks until I go to brush away the ones that are falling from her eyes with my fingertips and she mirrors the action. She wraps her arms tightly around my neck and I hear her sniffle softly near my ear.

"I love you…" she chokes out.

"Then don't use me as an excuse to not do what you want. Please?" I say back to her, trying to keep my voice from breaking.

"I called Haymitch. I fly to Boston first thing Monday morning for the interview," she says when she pulls away. Her eyes are locked on the space where our chests meet and I have to tilt her chin up to meet my gaze so I can smile at her properly.

"I'm so proud of you," I tell her with wide-eyed wonder.

"I haven't gotten it yet…it's just an interview," she says, rolling her eyes. I surge forward and kiss her firmly on the lips, my fingers somehow finding the patch of exposed skin of her lower back as her shirt rides up slightly from the top of her jeans. It pebbles immediately when my fingertips rake across it.

"I'm still proud of you," I repeat against her lips.

With our chests flush together and our lips locked, it's only another moment before we're writhing together right there on the desk chair. Our fingers twine in one another's hair and our tongues slide together lusciously inside our mouths. Passion and love consume us in an instant. Our mouths separate long enough for each of us to peel the other's shirt off before I lift her up and deposit her on the desk. We're able to fumble with the fastenings of our jeans with our mouths still connected and wiggle our hips until the material pools around our ankles. We can step out of them and push them aside with our feet.

She pushes against my chest so suddenly it makes me a little dizzy. My knees hit the chair I'd been sitting in and she watches me as I sink into it, staring longingly at her naked flesh in front of me.

"Stay right there," she says, lust heavy in her voice. My head lolls back against my shoulders when she disappears from sight, my impatience so potent that I almost take myself in my hand and pump myself to completion. Thankfully she's back in a moment, the tiny scrap of necessary foil in her hand.

She perches herself on my knees as she rolls the latex down my length. My hips buck up into her hand unwittingly, my body craving any ounce of contact she's willing to give me. I throw my head back and cry up to the ceiling when she pivots her hips up and sinks around me a second later.

"Please kiss me," she moans as she begins to thrust downwards on me. I take her face in my hands and connect our lips, moaning against her tongue as it slides against mine. My left hand tangles in her hair once more as my right moves down to cup her breast, rolling the perfectly erect nipple in between my thumb and forefinger. She keens in response, her fingernails clawing delicately at the skin of my upper back as she snaps her hips over and over onto mine.

She pulls her mouth away from mine to pepper my cheeks and jawline with kisses. "Katniss, I love you…I love you," I groan out as she works, gasping over and over when I feel myself being sheathed deeper and deeper inside of her. My hands move to her waist to slow her movements, the rhythmic snapping of her hips working me too quickly into oblivion. I want this to last and last.

She slows her pace and nips at the skin of my neck. "I love you, Peeta…oh _God, _I don't think you understand how much…"

Her core trembles as she moves her hips ever-so-slightly backwards; my cock must have hit that sweet spot inside her. I guide her to do it again and again, reveling in watching her face contort in delicious waves of pleasure, her eyes clenched shut.

"Baby, look at me," I command suddenly. Her eyes open but are still heavily hooded when I see her pupils again. I lick my lips as our gazes lock together. "We're…we're in this," I groan out.

"Yes…" she says with a nod as her eyes roll back into her head. It seems like a chore for her to keep them open, but she does as I've asked her and licks her lips as we continue to move together. "Always," she says with a nod.

"Always," I agree, my voice heavy with love and passion for her. My hand sinks down to where we're connected, my thumb seeking out that delicious little nub, and suddenly she can't keep her eyes open any more.

The combination of my thumb and my cock send her over the edge twice before I throw my own head back and scream out my release. Our bodies are drenched with sweat and panting heavily when she locks her arms around my shoulders and buries her head in the crook of my neck. My face plants itself against her shoulder, smelling the sweet scent of her skin and hair and my hands trace up and down her spine.

"This is forever, baby," I whisper to her. "Right?"

"Forever," she repeats into my ear. "Forever."

* * *

**A special thank you to _Honeylime _for pre-reading this chapter for me, and my eternal-as-always thanks to _Sohypothetically _for being my Beta Queen.**

**One week from _today_ will be the final AtRF update. I'm so grateful to all of you for standing by this story and letting Recovery!Peeta into your hearts. This has been a fantastic writing journey for me and I'm so, so glad you all were along for the ride.**


	27. How Long Do You Want To Be Loved?

**Happy Last-AtRF Tuesday, lovelies.**

**My lovely beta _sohypothetically _and pre-reader for this chapter _megsonfire_ have instructed me to warn you all that Feels Tissues are necessary for this chapter. So please don't say I didn't warn you. **

**I hope you enjoy this chapter. I love you all dearly, and will see you Saturday for the conclusion to Recovery!Peeta's journey.**

* * *

_I slip in bed when you're asleep_

_To hold you close and feel your breath on me_

_Tomorrow there'll be so much to do_

_So tonight I'll drift in a dream with you_

_How long do you want to be loved?_

_Is forever enough, is forever enough?_

_How long do you want to be loved?_

_Is forever enough?_

_Cause I'm never, never giving you up._

-The Dixie Chicks

* * *

It's my text message tone that wakes me instead of my alarm.

**My flight's delayed out of Logan. Should only be a half an hour, though. I'll let you know right before we take off. I love you. **

I smile into my pillow; after this evening I'll be sharing a bed with Katniss from now on once again. The thought is so calming and lovely that it makes everything worth it immediately.

She was offered the job on the spot in her interview in January. The head of the program, Darius Boggs, had received such a glowing recommendation from Haymitch Abernathy that he was going to offer it to her anyway, but the interview was a necessary formality. It had been with great emotion that I'd helped her pack up her winter clothes and a few personal belongings when she'd gotten back, then driven her back to the airport to fly to Boston. We'd held one another and cried, knowing that the next six months would be hard and sad, but they'd ultimately be worth it. Katniss has always been worth it. I'd given her my green three month chip on a chain we bought at the airport gift shop, and she'd worn it every single day of our separation. She told me that it felt like it had special powers, just like I had always believed. A week later I'd received my second six month chip. Then my nine month in May, around the time we declared our one year anniversary. I'm just two days away from my one year medallion now, and she'll be there when Madge gives it to me. That makes me so happy and grateful I can't even tell you.

I missed her every day. I missed waking her up by making love to her, kissing her to sleep at night, having coffee and lunch with her on our collective days off. The bed in the basement of Gale and Madge's house became all mine once she was gone and it was lonely and sad at first. I hate not sharing a bed with her. There have been many nights we've fallen asleep on the phone or over Skype, reveling in the sound of the other's breathing before we slipped out of consciousness. I sleep so much better when she's with me, that I know if I don't share a bed with her every night for the rest of my life, I'll always feel like something is missing. But it's worth it, because Katniss is always worth it.

She didn't miss the birth of Annie and Finnick's baby. Ezra Odair came into our lives just after midnight on my 27th birthday, and she'd been visiting for a long weekend visit anyway. We all spent the night in the hospital waiting through Annie's delivery, which was painless and sweet by child birthing standards. Ezra looks exactly like his father, except for being graced with a full head of Annie's dark hair. The six of us had cried the happiest tears as we passed him around, welcoming him into our family and into the world we all wanted to make special and beautiful for him. He's the sunniest baby any of us have ever met, my little godson. I'd fought Annie and Finnick on giving me the title because it felt too big, too real, too much like something I'd fail miserably at. Then we figured out that I can calm him as easily as Annie can without even trying. It still feels big and real, and I'm still terrified I'll fail this tiny little soul, but like so many things in this "new life" of mine, I'm still willing to try. And these days, it's hard to remember what we all did without Ezra in our lives.

Annie wanted to wait to get married until after his birth. That's why Katniss is flying in today: she's one of the unofficial bridesmaids for the tiny wedding we're holding for them this afternoon out at the Hawthorne's cabin. It's just going to be the seven of us today, with a big reception to be held next week before Annie goes back to work. I suppose I'm technically Finn's best man, even though I have a much bigger role to play. But I'll get to that.

The second six months of sobriety have been easier on me than the first this go-around. I only see Dr. Aurelius once a week now and while I'm still on meds, my dosages have been pretty drastically reduced. Gale and I took up running a few months ago, and I guess what they say about the natural endorphins is true because it's been incredible for my well being. Not to say I don't still have my days, of course: Mrs. Eleanor, the kindly lady who was my client at work, passed away in April, and despite not knowing her well, I'd had a dark day of cravings that culminated in Madge taking the afternoon off and sitting with me through two AA meetings and two packs of cigarettes. I've come to the conclusion that death will never be easy on me, mostly because I still miss my dad every single day. But my friends got me through, like they promised me they would in that hospital room a year ago. Grieving isn't something I try to do alone anymore. I learned my lesson, and I'll never make that mistake again.

Gale and I talk over a cup of coffee before I head to the airport to pick up Katniss. I give him my nice button down and slacks to take out to the cabin and he leaves to pick up a very jittery Finnick at the same time I head out for Katniss. Annie had insisted they sleep apart last night and that does him about as many favors as sleeping without Katniss does me. We'll all meet up out at the cabin in a couple of hours. The weather is supposed to be beautiful, despite all the mid-summer storms we've gotten this month. Their day today will be as perfect as mine was imperfect today last year. Today will stop being referred to as "Peeta's Dark Day", and be replaced as Finnick and Annie Odair's wedding day. That had been my idea. They'd loved it.

I stand in my usual spot at the Raleigh-Durham airport waiting area, just past the security checkpoint. Katniss likes to try to sneak up on me when she comes through from the terminal. I never quite let her—I'm too hyper vigilant when I'm waiting for the woman I love to be back in my arms, especially in visits past when I knew it was only going to be a couple of days. _But today_, I remind myself, _it's for _good_. Today is the first day of the rest of our lives. Today will be an unfailingly good day. _

I spot her before she spots me. Her hair is loose around her shoulders, her pace is quick despite the heavy garment bag slung over her shoulder. When she meets my gaze, she makes a run for me, nearly knocking over a father with two squirming toddlers on his hips in her desperation to leap into my arms. The pillar behind me keeps her from pitching me backwards and provides us an iota of privacy from the prying eyes of the rest of the passengers and their families for our feverish kissing. Her weight is perfect suspended in my arms, her lips are warm and inviting, and even after a year and several months together, I cannot get enough of her mint and rosemary shampoo.

"Welcome home," I tell her between kisses. She responds by sliding her tongue into my mouth, not at all caring how impressively sickening this public display of affection might be to passers-by. We're all that matter in this moment; after six months of rough days and sweet accomplishments, of growing into ourselves separately and together, we're complete again. We know this moment would have happened anyway, no matter how trying the distance between us was. This was always going to happen.

I set her down several minutes later, our hands locked together as we head towards baggage claim. "Oh, I didn't check anything," she says nonchalantly. My eyebrows raise. "I put everything in boxes. Rue'll send them to me this week."

Rue is the sprite of a roommate Katniss stayed with in Cambridge. I thought she was the least likely electrical engineer I'd ever met in my life when I first laid eyes on her, but the girl is a pistol. She and Katniss got along wonderfully, and even though she never said so, having Rue around made our separation easier.

With this, we head out to my car. I press her against the passenger door to claim her lips again, making her squeal and slide her hips against mine. "Don't we have some important people waiting for us?" she moans into my mouth.

"They can wait a little longer," I say, my voice a growl from the back of my throat. Kissing her, claiming her like this is a luxury after six months. Surely our friends will understand if we're a few minutes late...

"Soon, baby...I promise," she says slyly, pushing against my chest and sliding into the front seat. I have to adjust my cargo shorts before I round the car to the driver's seat.

The drive to the cabin takes just over an hour. Gale and Finnick are waiting for us by the other cars on a pair of ATVs, and both rush Katniss to embrace her. She can't help but pinch Finnick's cheeks when she pulls away from him. "Ready to make your son legitimate, Odair?"

"Your mom, Kat," Finnick says with slightly narrowed eyes before embracing her again. "Glad you're home. Wouldn't have been the same today without you."

"Peet, you want take this one and Catnip out there?" Gale asks, dangling the keys to his ATV at me.

"If you guys could take the stuff, actually, we were gonna hike it," Katniss says for me. Gale and Finnick share a significant look.

"Suuuuure," Finnick says with a wink.

"Don't be too long. Last we heard, Madge was finishing Annie's hair. Shouldn't be too much longer before she's ready, and we want to start as soon as Ez is up from his nap," Gale says.

"We'll hike fast, we promise," Katniss says, pulling me along the path even before the guys restart the vehicles and zoom off in front of us. We fall into a comfortable silence, our fingers knotted together and our feet in step with one another. I know the path better by now after having been out here a few times, but she still mostly leads the way.

When we reach the copse of trees she'd pointed out to me last summer, the one where she'd caught Gale and Madge making out, a wicked grin spreads across her face. Before I even prepare myself for it, she's pinning me against one of the trees and fiddling with the button and fly of my pants.

"Katniss, we said we'd hurry," I say halfheartedly, not really wanting her to stop. I'd love nothing more than to be inside her for the rest of the day.

"I don't think this'll take long, unless that phone sex last week tided you over more than I realized," she says impishly, tugging at my shorts and underwear quickly before dropping to her knees. Her mouth plunges around me and I feel my legs start to shake. God, that's good. Phone sex with Katniss had been surprisingly invigorating, but my cock being in her mouth is a sensation like no other. Her tongue buzzes, her hand cups me, her cheeks hollow out, and I thump my head hard against the tree behind me as I look down at her. Her eyes are imploring, begging me silently to find my release with her this way. I tangle my hands into her hair and guide her head until I can feel my tip graze her throat. She moans against me and my legs shake that much harder.

"Baby, I wanna come inside you," I murmur.

But she makes no motion to pull away. Her tongue lathes against me mercilessly, her mouth a little vaccuum, her fingers unendingly talented. I try to tug her away before she finishes me, so I can return the favor and fuck her properly right here, right now, but she'll have none of it. She swallows around me as I come hard with a jerk of my hips. I nearly lose my balance in the afterglow, so she tucks me back inside my pants and refastens everything before wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.

"Hope that didn't totally wreck you for later," she says with a wink. I pull her against my chest and kiss her hard, intent on returning the favor anyway, but she pulls on my hand to lead me back to the path.

"I can wait for mine," she singsongs. "I just had to do that to you."

"You're incredible," I tell her as I stumble after her.

"Oh, I know," she says, her grin a mile wide.

* * *

"Look alive, boys, she's ready!" Madge's voice rings out from the front door of the cabin a couple of hours later. Finnick bounces nervously on the balls of his feet, because he truly hasn't laid eyes on his bride all day long, much to his own dismay and Madge's insistence. Gale and I put our hands gently on his shoulders to steady him when the girls begin their short walk towards us.

There is no music; they decided they didn't need it, just like they didn't need a stranger officiating or fancy bridesmaids dresses. They needed one another and someone to guide them through their vows. That incredibly happy task fell to me. I don't know if you need to be "silver-tongued" like Katniss calls me when it comes to Finnick and Annie; in this moment, Madge and Katniss in their pretty yellow sundresses and Gale and I in our crisp white button downs don't exist. Not when Annie comes floating in, waves of billowy navy fabric cascading around her legs and a squirming, faux-tuxed donned Ezra in her arms. Her eyes lock on Finn's and there is no one else left in the world but them.

I give them a half minute to gaze adoringly into one another's eyes. Katniss takes Ezra from Annie and Madge loops her arm through Gale's, and I clear my throat and carefully unfold the bit of paper from my pocket.

"_When love beckons to you, follow him_," I read aloud, "_Though his ways are hard and steep. And when his wings enfold you yield to him, though the sword hidden among his pinions may wound you. And when he speaks to you believe in him, though his voice may shatter your dreams as the north wind lays waste the garden._

_"For even as love crowns you so shall he crucify you. Even as he is for your growth so is he for your pruning. Even as he ascends to your height and caresses your tenderest branches that quiver in the sun, so shall he descend to your roots and shake them in their clinging to the earth._

_"Like sheaves of corn he gathers you unto himself. He threshes you to make you naked. He sifts you to free you from your husks. He grinds you to whiteness. He kneads you until you are pliant; and then he assigns you to his sacred fire, that you may become sacred bread for God's sacred feast._

_"All these things shall love do unto you that you may know the secrets of your heart, and in that knowledge become a fragment of Life's heart."_

My voice shakes a bit. Madge wipes at her eyes. Katniss kisses the crown of Ezra's head. Annie and Finnick still can't take their eyes off one another. So I press on.

_"But if in your fear you would seek only love's peace and love's pleasure, then it is better for you that you cover your nakedness and pass out of love's threshing-floor, into the seasonless world where you shall laugh, but not all of your laughter, and weep, but not all of your tears. Love gives naught but itself and takes naught but from itself. Love possesses not nor would it be possessed; for love is sufficient unto love._

_"When you love you should not say, "God is in my heart," but rather, "I am in the heart of God." And think not you can direct the course of love, for love, if it finds you worthy, directs your course._

_"Love has no other desire but to fulfill itself. But if you love and must needs have desires, let these be your desires: to melt and be like a running brook that sings its melody to the night. To know the pain of too much tenderness. To be wounded by your own understanding of love; and to bleed willingly and joyfully. To wake at dawn with a winged heart and give thanks for another day of loving; to rest at the noon hour and meditate love's ecstasy; to return home at eventide with gratitude; and then to sleep with a prayer for the beloved in your heart and a song of praise upon your lips."_

Annie's wedding band for Finnick is in my right hand pocket. I remove it and press it into her palm. She poses it at the tip of his fourth finger and beams at me quickly before turning her attention back at Finn.

"I, Annie, choose you, Finnick, to be my husband," I lead her, although her voice is far steadier and understandably more jubilant than my own. "In front of our friends and our son, I promise to love and cherish you through every obstacle that may come into our path. I promise to learn how to check the oil in my car and try to remember to put my socks in the laundry hamper. I will comfort you when your team loses in overtime and do the chicken-dance with you when they win. I will love you always, Finnick." She slides the band down his finger. He grins at me when I carefully toss him her ring, which he catches deftly in midair.

He repeats after me a moment later: "I, Finnick, choose you, Annie, to be my wife. In front of our friends and our son, I promise to love and cherish you throughout the good times and the bad times. I promise to figure out how to properly wind the vacuum chord back up and replace the trash can liners after I take the garbage out. I promise to remember this day with love, sunshine, and those little white flowers in your hair. I will love you always, Annie." Her band slides down to her bottom knuckle, and I have to clear my throat again to keep from crying as hard as Katniss, Madge, and even Gale are now.

"Then it is my very happy privilege, as granted to me by the Internet and the grumpy guy at the county clerk's office…" I say lightheartedly as Finnick begins to bounce on his toes again, "…to pronounce that you are husband and wife. Finn, kiss her already, I know you're dying to."

The words have barely left my mouth when Finnick's lips close over Annie's. A well placed shriek escapes their baby's mouth. The four of us applaud our friends as Ezra continues to demand his parents' attention. Finnick takes him from Katniss and presses him to his chest before kissing Annie again, and for my friends and I, time and distance no longer matter. Only love does.

Somehow, from her place in Gale's arms, Madge catches my eye. I see her mouth the usual One to Ten question, but I already know my answer before her lips stop moving.

_Zero_, I mouth back. It's absolutely true.

* * *

We toast their hour-old marriage with sparkling apple cider, even though Madge and I both agreed that if they wanted real champagne we'd be alright. Gale roasts fish caught from the lake over a fire and I carve into a hearty loaf of bread I'd baked the day before. It's just enough food for all of us to still be hungry enough for the rich double fudge cupcakes I'd also brought in. And by rich, I mean that most of us can barely finish them, except for Katniss, who's never eaten something I've made and not inhaled it, and Annie, who is always ravenous these days from breast-feeding Ezra.

To give the newlyweds some semblance of privacy on their wedding night, Gale and Katniss pitch a couple of tents out by the lake for rest of us to sleep in and give Annie and Finnick the entire cabin to themselves. As we clean up the last of the dishes, I see Madge pull Annie aside and whisper into her ear. They both nod quickly as smiles spread across their faces. They aren't looking at either of their husbands, though; they're looking at me.

"Out by the lake!" Madge says by way of explanation. Katniss, Finnick, Gale, and I share a confused look, but follow the girls obediently. It's just a few minutes to sunset, and I'm tempted to say we all need to hose down with bug spray, but there's not enough time to when Madge pulls me in front of her and positions all our friends around her. She fumbles around in the pocket of her sundress, and suddenly I'm pretty sure I know what's going on.

"This…is two days early. Technically, anyway. And Maysilee will give me all sorts of guilty looks when you show up to our next meeting and already have this, but…Peeta, it has been almost 365 days since your last drink. This last year has been trying and painful and sad at a lot of times; but other times have been sunny and beautiful and as perfect as they possibly could be. Every single day you've made the conscious decision to not drink has brought you closer and closer to this moment. So Maysilee will just have to get over it because Peeta Mellark, you deserve this. Right here, right now. This," she says, her voice choking up at the same time it swells with pride, "is your One Year medallion."

She presses the tiny thing into my palm. This isn't just a new anodized scrap of aluminum: this medallion is heavy and solid. It's black, instantly marking it as different from of my other chips, which makes the silver and gold of the details pop that much more under the protective glaze. The Roman Numeral that marks it as my One Year token immediately catches a glint of the fading sunlight and I feel my hand shake a little. Not because my 'zero' of a couple of hours ago has suddenly swelled to a seven or eight, but because the gravity of this moment is just so profound. There is no "one" moment I've been working towards; it's all day-by-day, growing a little stronger, standing a little taller, hoping for better than what has been so far. But if there was _a moment_, this would be it.

_This is recovery, _I realize. _There will always be 'my disease', as long as I live. But this moment is my recovery. My success. My salvation. This is real._

"You've done it," Madge whispers so only I can hear. "You're doing it. I'm so proud I can't even…"

Her arms are wrapped around my neck tightly a second later and she isn't the only one crying big, fat tears of joy. I catch a glimpse of Katniss over her shoulder, of Annie holding Ezra, of Gale and Finnick with their arms crossed trying to keep it together. But we're all big, blubbering messes for the second time today.

And it's entirely worth it.

* * *

A couple of days after Finnick and Annie's wedding out at the cabin, I wake up with a start. I think maybe I've had a dream of some sort—not a nightmare necessarily, but something has snapped me awake way too quickly. I reach over next to me to wrap my arms around Katniss, and when she isn't there I feel my heart pound in my chest.

_She was here a minute ago, I'm sure. Where is she now?_

"Hey, you okay?" I hear her ask softly. The rhythm of my heart slows considerably when I see her padding back from the bathroom, her hair kinked around her shoulders and her eyes sleepy. The tiniest bit of light is filtering from the small windows in our living space, so it must be early and she's just gotten up to use the bathroom quickly. I feel a little silly instantly, thinking she was gone again. I don't admit that to her. Instead I just shake my head and lay back against the pillows.

"Weird dream," I say non-chalantly, my voice groggy.

"Weird how?" she says as she crawls back in bed with me, her eyebrows furrowed.

"Not bad. Just weird. I don't remember it," I tell her honestly. She curls into my chest and runs her fingertips up and down my sides lightly. "Really," I add, as if I'm worried she doesn't believe me.

"Okay," she says after a long yawn. "Do you have to work today?"

"Yeah, but not until noon. Believe me, I'd much rather stay in bed with you all day…"

"So you can make me even more sore than you made me last night?" she says impishly. "That finger thing…that's new…"

I can't help but grin broadly to myself at the recollection of our lovemaking from the night before. I'm not sure I'd ever heard her scream quite as loudly as she did last night. My first-thing-in-the-morning erection throbs lightly against my stomach. I'm about to roll her onto her back to kiss her when she flips over quickly so her back is to me. I settle on kissing the almost bare skin of her shoulders, hoping to entice her anyway.

"We should…hey, stop that a second, will you?" she says, batting one of my hands away when I reach around to cup her breast. "We should talk. As long as we're both awake."

"We _could_…but couldn't it wait a half an hour or so? I promise to be gentle if you're sore," I moan into her ear. I feel her stiffen slightly and realize it's probably time to back off.

"I'm serious, Peeta. It's waited a few days already," she says quietly.

I rub my hands along my face and sit up, propping one of my pillows into my lap as I lean against the headboard. My heart resumes its quickened pace in my chest. Something about this doesn't seem…right. "What's wrong, baby?"

She flips back over onto her back and I watch her eyes dart around the room, looking for anything to focus on seemingly other than my own gaze. Yeah—something's up. I can tell.

"It's nothing—bad, necessarily. I'm not about to tell you I cheated on you while I was up there, honest. It's just…"

"You can tell me anything, honey. What's going on?"

She flips over again onto her belly and buries her face in her pillow. I hear her speak into it, but I don't catch much except for something that sounds like the words 'furred' and 'Austin'.

"Wanna actually say it out loud, Katniss?"

She looks up at me and sighs. "The, um…the last day in the MIT office while we were cleaning everything out and packing up…Boggs came and talked to me. About me, um, staying. In Boston. For good," she says slowly.

"But, the gig ended…" I reply, thoroughly confused.

"Not with MIT. With Coin Corp…Boggs' company."

"What do they do?"

"A little of a lot. But there's an environmental advocacy branch and…they have a job opening starting in September. Boggs told me if I wanted it, it was mine," she says.

My heart stops pounding and sinks to my stomach instead. I wish she'd waited until I had some coffee or nicotine in my system to tell me this. "Why, um…why are you just bringing this up now?"

"I was preoccupied—with the wedding and being back with you and everything else. I didn't want to damper things for Finn and Annie, and then Madge and your chip, and…"

"This is a pretty big deal, Katniss. Mentioning something about it before almost a week's gone by might have been the wiser choice," I say. My voice sounds a little bitter. Or maybe just hurt. Or confused. I settle on confused. "What's the job?"

She stammers out an explanation of the work so quickly I don't process much of it. My head actually spins from how quickly she's speaking by the time she stops I feel a little dizzy.

"Do you want to take it?" I ask. My throat's gone dry. I think back to a very specific moment not unlike this one seven months ago. I think of the fight I'd picked and her slamming the bathroom door in my face. Her bursting into tears. Me fuming a little too much before I called for the pause.

_Let's not go _there _again,_ I decide.

"I told him I had to think about it. That I needed to talk to you about it before I could make up my mind one way or another. I've been thinking a lot about it since I got home, though, and—"

"You do want to take it," I conclude for her.

"It'd be a huge opportunity, Peeta. I'd be working in my field on a permanent basis as opposed to hoping that if or when the next MIT gig would come along, it might be a little closer to home. And I…I like Boston," she says delicately.

In truth, I could see why. I'd liked the city too the couple of times I'd flown up to visit her while she was away. Neither of us had quite been able to put our fingers on exactly what it was about the city, but it was an appealing place. Busier than here without never stopping. Seasons. History. Maybe a little bit of all of the above.

_And Katniss seemed really 'at home' there…_

"Is that why you didn't bring home a checked bag? Why all your stuff is in boxes at Rue's place, waiting to be shipped out?"

"I…"

"Katniss, just tell me…"

"If I went back next month it…well, it wouldn't have made much sense to bring it home just to move it back," she murmurs.

I rub my jaw idly. I'm no longer tired, but I am remembering snippets of the dream that woke me. Or rather, why it made me want to reach out for her the moment I'd woken up from it.

_Because you didn't know if she'd be there._

"If, um…you want it, you should take it. You know I support you fully in your career. You should take a job in your field as opposed to shilling coffee drinks while you wait for the next temp-gig to come along. It's a waste of your education to do otherwise," I tell her.

She sits up suddenly and finally looks into my eyes. I wonder if mine are glistening the same way hers are. "I don't want to be in a long distance relationship. Not forever. Six months was hard enough. I know it was worth it, for the both of us, for your sobriety…but I can't do it forever."

"No. I wouldn't expect you to want to," I say sadly.

"Come with me," she says so quickly I almost don't hear her. I must gape at her because she sighs deeply and repeats herself much slower this time. "Come with me. Move up there with me. Please."

"K-Katniss…"

"You don't have to decide right away. Think about it, though. You're…you're over your one year mark. That's huge. And…well, you do have a job you can do just about anywhere…"

This is true. It was something I'd brought up in passing in the past—environmental scientists can be hard pressed to find competitive work outside of large metropolitan areas. Massage therapists, however, are much more marketable. I could find a few square feet to set up a chair in the middle of a mall and probably make minimum wage while still utilizing my skills. And it's not like there aren't spas in Boston…

"I feel selfish asking, Peeta. But I want forever. And…this would get us forever. Just in a different city, that's all. But it's a lot to ask of you, I know. It's huge to ask. If I have to choose between you and this job, I'll choose you and we'll make it work. But if there's any chance at all that maybe, just maybe, I could have both then…I have to at least ask. Would you think about it? Please?"

My heart feels like it begins to beat properly again, and in the correct place in my body. I think hard on her words, wanting to challenge the veracity behind them, and remind her that she should come first in this decision, that I should be a distant second behind her dream job…

Then it strikes me: all this time, I've been thinking that _she's _worth the wait. Worth everything. Worth staying sober for and working hard for, all of that.

_She's saying that _you're _worth it too, Mellark. _

I think on it a little more. A lot more, actually, to the point I'm sure she thinks my brain has traveled off to some distant and unreachable place out in the ether. But the notion is so huge, so wholly unbelievable, so exciting that I have to sit and process it over and over again in my head before I actually believe it myself.

_Despite being a world-class screw up, an almost 30 year old alcoholic, a college dropout…I _am_ fucking worth it._

* * *

My head hasn't been in my work all day. Thankfully, all of my clients have been easy enough—basic one hour sessions, full body with just a slight variation in preferred pressure. I only had to ask once if I'd forgotten to work someone's arm, and the gal had taken it totally in stride, telling me that she'd zoned out so much from my work that she couldn't remember until she noticed there wasn't any lotion on her arm. She'd even left me a good tip, so I suppose it couldn't have been all bad.

But now as I remake the table and flip off the light as I leave the room for the day, I wonder to myself how hard it would be to leave this behind. I've been at the same job for almost three years. Gone through two rock-bottoms with more or less these same coworkers. Made friends with most of them, Finnick and Annie in particular. Finn hadn't seemed too upset to leave this place, but his fantastic new gig with the 'Canes had helped considerably. Other jobs existed, certainly. Ones that paid better. Some that paid worse. Sure, I've worked hard to build a good client base here, and some of my clients would genuinely be upset if I left. But they'd move on, just like I would.

I punch out and walk out to my car, rolling down all my windows after I turn my key in the ignition to light a cigarette. I've smoked more than my usual amount today in my constant pondering of the question at hand. My tongue feels tacky coated as it is in tar and I'm sure I smell like an ashtray. Madge has been cutting down significantly the last few months, so by proxy, so have I. But my mind is too far off to heed that much.

I take a roundabout route home. I pass by my old apartment complex, surprised when I don't feel the pangs of missing that dinky little studio dwelling like I have the couple of other times I've driven by. I take a few left turns, then drive straight through to Elmhurst Avenue—a street I've been avoiding for two years.

Dad's old house wasn't much to look at from the front, but he'd done a ton of work on the inside after the three of us had moved out. Renovated the kitchen, turned the bedroom Bannock and Rye had shared into a proper office to keep his mountains of stored up inventory books and ledgers. He'd never been big on computers. He'd converted my old bedroom into a proper guest room with enough beds for all three of us to crash in if we ever stayed the night, not like we often did. He'd painted the walls of it a dark orange just a few months before…I wonder if the new owners left it that way.

My car idles in front of it until I see the garage door open. A small, sporty sedan begins to back out of the driveway, and I fiddle with my phone instinctively, wanting to be able to pretend I'm looking for directions or something if the guy driving stops to ask me why the hell I'm parked outside his place. He just drives on by, though, and I don't even get a good look at his face. I wonder if he's married. Maybe has a kid or two that's using my bedroom as a play area perhaps. Maybe his wife hates the kitchen, the work of keeping the double stacked stainless steel ovens wiped clean of fingerprints. Maybe they love it. Maybe they bake. Maybe they hung up a pot rack in the same place Dad did. Maybe…maybe…

I don't drive over to the District shopping plaza, where the bakery had been. It had been easy enough to find a buyer for the place, but I know they hadn't kept it a bakery. It'd been converted into some sort of fast food Greek place instead. When I'd discovered that a couple of months after Dad was gone, I'd drunk myself into such a stupor I called out of work two straight days to recover from it. But I suppose it wasn't much of a recovery when you figure I never stopped refilling my favorite tumbler with gin and seltzer. Seeing that again would be too much. So would seeing the cemetery, which isn't far away from there. I haven't been there once since the funeral. I suppose I should rectify that. But today isn't the day.

I still remember Dad's number. I don't think I'll ever forget that combination of digits, even when I'm old and grey and have kids of my own to worry over. That combination of 1s, 2s, 7s, and 9s will always be his, even though his voice will never again be on the other end of it. It's been two years and that still hurts as much as it did the day I first realized it. Except now I don't have a drink in my hand to make it hurt less. I have to breathe that pain in and out until it subsides…if it ever does.

"Dad…what do I do?" I whisper aloud as I stop at the left turn light to get into Gale and Madge's subdivision. "Please tell me what to do."

I wait until the green arrow flashes, fully expecting some ethereal voice that belongs to him to drift into my ears and give me my answer. I'm not really surprised when it doesn't, though. I knew it wouldn't. I just hoped maybe it would.

Madge and Katniss are in the front yard, poised on their hands and knees at the edge of the flower bed. Madge is wearing a big floppy hat to keep the sun off her pale skin, but Katniss soaking up the rays in a grey tank top. It doesn't look that dissimilar to the one I'd peeled off her torso the first time we'd made love. Maybe it is the same one. They both turn around and wave at me when I pull into my spot in the driveway. I try to search Katniss's eyes for some sort of clue about whether or not she's mentioned to Madge what we talked about this morning, but they're shielded by an oversized pair of sunglasses. Still, I'm certain she hasn't. This is a decision we have to make on our own. Madge, Gale, Finnick, and Annie will know one way or another once the verdict is in. And that's on my shoulders now.

"Hey, good day?" Madge calls out to me, fanning herself with her hat quickly before plunking it back on her head.

"Alright. Are those tomatoes still coming up?"

"Yep! If we can find ones that aren't all buggy we'll make sauce out of them. But that's harder than it sounds considering _someone _won't let me use the food-safe RoundUp on my own garden," Madge says, shooting a significant look at Katniss.

"And I keep telling you 'food-safe' pesticides are a fucking myth. Aren't you at least happy you don't have to buy organic tomatoes for the obscene prices they charge at the grocery store?" Katniss says defensively.

"Yeah, yeah…take those peppers inside, will you? We can make Peeta cut 'em up now that he's home," Madge says with a wink.

"How'd I get dragged into this?" I ask.

"You're a better cook than Gale is, and you're home earlier. Get to chopping, go go!" Madge says. Katniss grabs a little basket and leads me into the house. She pops her sunglasses up on top of her head and goes straight to the sink to rinse the veggies off. I stand close to her, smelling the dirt and sweat on her skin. It's almost as incredible as her body wash.

_You want to smell that scent every day for the rest of your life, don't you?_

_Yes. Yes, I do. Desperately._

_Then what the hell are you waiting for?_

"Katniss…" I say slowly, watching her spin around, almost completely startled by how close to her I am.

"Don't you want to get settled in a little before we start dinner?" she says, a little flustered.

"I'll go," I tell her solemnly.

"What?"

"I'll go to Boston. I've decided. I want to go to Boston with you," I repeat. I'm not entirely sure where this confidence came from, since I know I didn't feel it three minutes ago behind the wheel of my car. But standing next to her in this moment, I do know. She's my forever. Boston is our forever. It's scary and exciting and overwhelming, but there it is.

"R-Really?" she stammers. Her grey eyes glisten as she speaks, and her bottom lip clenches between her teeth. I close the space between us and coax her lips into pressing against mine. Everything about her is perfect. Everything about me is about as perfect as I can get.

_We _are perfect. And this moment would have happened anyway. _Forever _would have happened anyway.

"Really," I reply.


	28. Epilogue

I'm up before dawn, which is easy when you consider I never really slept the night before. Too many nerves, I suppose. I untangle myself delicately from Katniss's sleeping form and tiptoe to the staircase, taking care to avoid the couple of steps I know creak in the middle. I close the door to the basement behind me before I cross through the living room to the side patio door. I've left my cigarettes on the small table next to the sliding glass panel and palm them quickly before stepping outside.

Even though it's September, North Carolina weather is still warm and muggy, even at 4:45 in the morning. I'm perfectly comfortable in my shorts, t-shirt, and bare feet. I rub my fingertips over my lips between drags of my cigarette and sigh deeply. Not a bad sigh, though—I'm pretty content right now.

Katniss called the office in Boston to accept the position as soon as I told her I'd go with her. That was a month ago—in the meantime, I've applied and received a license to practice massage therapy in Massachusetts and already have an interview set up at an orthopedic clinic not far from the apartment Katniss found for us in the Kenmore neighborhood. Our place is small and on the fifth floor, but we're a ten minute walk away from Fenway Park. My dad would have gotten an absolute kick out of that.

The next step had been telling everybody, which had made us both nervous, particularly when it came to telling Madge. But to our great surprise, none of our friends or family were more ardently supportive than she had been. She has her moments of looking at us wistfully, and I can tell there's something else on her mind, but she always smiles that sweet Madge smile and shakes herself out of it. In contrast, Gale had pulled both Katniss and I aside at a couple different times and grilled us about our decision, wanting to make sure we both understood how big of a deal this was. He means well, of course, but we finally had to tell him to calm down before he turned into too much of a mother hen. Finnick pointed out that he travels to Boston several times during the season with the team, so we wouldn't shake him so easily. Annie had cried happy tears for us and allowed me to spend several afternoons hanging out with her and Ezra so I could get my fill of my godson in the meantime before moving away. Katniss and I agreed that that would be one of the hardest parts of being away, not seeing Ezra as he grows up. But there's Skype and texts and any number of visits. The entire group has already agreed to come up and spend Thanksgiving with us. And we'll be home at Christmas. So it'll be alright.

I'm using the tail end of my first smoke to light another when I hear the door behind me slide open. I spin around in my spot, fully expecting to see Katniss standing there with a sleepy look in her eyes before telling me to come back to bed, but instead a head of blonde curls smiles back at me.

"I didn't wake you or Gale, did I?" I ask Madge. She shakes her head and plops down next to me to steal one of the sticks out of my pack.

"No, I just couldn't sleep anymore. I was coming out here entirely on my own, actually. Great minds, I suppose," she says teasingly, blowing smoke out of her mouth.

"Nicotine addicted minds, I think you mean," I tell her with a smirk.

"That too. Couldn't sleep?" she asks.

"Not well, anyway. The whole downstairs looks so weird with all the boxes and everything, you know? I feel like I _just _did this when I moved out of my apartment," I reply.

"That was almost a year ago, you realize," she says.

"Yeah, I guess so."

She loops her arm around mine where it's propped against my knee and then lolls her head on my shoulder. It's a typical position for us, I suppose, given that we're the only smokers of the group and this is where we most often hang out to do it. The spot is calming. It's a place that seems to belong just to us. I suppose objectively I know she'll still use it after this afternoon when Katniss and I drive away. But it'll still be _ours_.

"Do I need to ask the question?" she whispers after a long silence.

"Four. You?"

"About the same. I don't know what Gale and I will do after you guys are out of here…"

"You mean besides walk around naked and try to make a baby on the kitchen counter…oh, wait, that was last week…"

Her fist punches my side playfully and I can't help but laugh at the way her cheeks color again. "Ass," she calls me.

"You guys will be fine. You'll get used to it in no time, I'm sure. We're the ones starting all over again," I say with a shrug.

"You'll both be alright, too, you know. Better than alright, I think. I think this will be really good for you and Katniss, Peet. I'm really proud of you guys," she says. Her smile is so broad, so genuine that I can't help but believe her implicitly.

"I know where and when all of the closest meetings are. Rue's brother is going with me to the one on Wednesday nights…"

"You're sober, Peeta. That one year medallion isn't going anywhere. I genuinely believe that."

Her words are like a breath of fresh air, but I know she's not just saying them because she knows it's what I need to hear. She believes them. She wants to make sure I believe them, too. And I do, genuinely.

It's not gonna stop me from missing the hell out of my best friend, though.

"Do you, uh…remember what you told me that night that Gale told me to sack up and call Katniss at last?"

"Mostly, yeah. Why?"

I purse my lips. "You told me that if anyone could save me the way that Gale saved you, it was Katniss," I remind her.

"Well, she did, didn't she?"

"Mostly. But I think you saved me more, Madge."

Her large doe-like eyes widen at my words. The smile slips from her lips and she clenches the bottom one between her teeth.

"You…you saved yourself, Peeta," she says shakily.

"Call it a draw?" I ask, my own words filled suddenly with emotion.

She nods her head quickly right as her arms wrap around my neck. Our cigarettes are tossed aside in favor of this embrace instead, and before either of us realize it, we're sobbing quietly into the other's hair.

"Love you, Peet," she whispers into my ear.

"Love you, too, Madgie," I tell her. And then we're crying all over again.

* * *

Neither of us are tired enough to go back to sleep. I look at Madge coyly after a minute as an idea pops into my head, then tug her into the kitchen. All the necessary ingredients are there. Madge patiently watches me add yeast to warm water and helps me measure out the flour and sugar.

"I thought you had to let these rise overnight?" she asks.

"You can do a quick rise in an hour. Put the tea kettle on, would you?" I tell her.

The dough comes together as the water boils. I pour the scalding liquid into a shallow pot and pop it in the bottom of the cold oven, along with the greased bowl containing the dough. "It'll rise perfectly like that. But if you remember far enough ahead of time, an overnight proof in the fridge is the best way."

"You might have an eidetic recipe memory, Peeta, but I most definitely do not," she says with a laugh.

There's a recipe book Hazelle had given her for her bridal shower, filled with favored recipes from all of her girlfriend's kitchens. I could have made the case that despite being a guy, I probably could have given her better recipes than some of the ones she'd come up with, but I hadn't ever wanted to go there. All the same, I find where she stashes the book along with the rest of her cookbooks and fish a pen out of the junk drawer. She watches me as I scribble the recipe out from memory, adding comments about Dad used to use vanilla extract for the icing while I favor whole vanilla beans, and how around Christmas time, a tiny bit of peppermint extract adds a totally different element to them. I have to double back to the top line, where you're supposed to write the name of the recipe and from whose kitchen it comes from.

_Peet's Birthday Rolls/Mellark's Famous Cinnamon Buns_

_From the kitchen of: Ezekiel Mellark_

Writing Dad's name doesn't have quite the same sharp knife twist as it usually does. I wonder briefly what that means.

"Peeta…you didn't…" Madge says when she reads what I've written. I see tears glaze over her eyes again and tut and shake my head.

"'Good recipes are meant to be shared with people you love'. Dad always said that. Promise me you'll make them, okay?" I tell her.

"Gale's gonna get so fat," she says cheekily.

"Maybe," I say with a grin. Sunlight is spilling in through the kitchen windows fast. I chew on my bottom lip. "Go ahead and make up the filling, would you? I need to head out for a minute," I tell her finally.

"Where are you…" she begins.

"Nowhere devious. I'll be back by the time Katniss and Gale are up to go get the trailer, I promise. Just follow the recipe if I'm not back by the time the dough rises, okay?" I tell her, making my way towards the laundry room where Katniss and I have a load of clothes in the dryer set aside specifically for moving day. I pull on a pair of cargo pants and head towards the door. "I'll be back soon, Madgie," I repeat before closing the door behind me.

* * *

I stand at the gates of the cemetery for several long minutes before I can finally force my feet to step through them. It takes me a minute to remember the exact route to Dad's headstone, but before I realize it, I'm standing in front of it. My knees are weak. My heart is heavy. I wonder if I have any tears left to cry.

"H-hi, Dad," I squeak out. I crouch down a few feet from the headstone so the morning dew on the grass doesn't get my pants too damp and rub my hand along my jaw. "I'm…I'm sorry I haven't been here to see you. I guess I just always thought that people who talk to headstones are a little strange, so I figured I'd put it off as long as possible, you know? And now here I am…funny, right?"

Birds chirp in the trees nearby. I think I keep hoping to hear his voice manifest out of nowhere, even though I know that's impossible.

"I…um, I don't know what else is out there," I say aloud. "I don't know if you just fell into a dreamless sleep and that's all you've known for two years, or if there's some puffy clouded heaven with angels and halos and a guy with a long beard checking people in. I don't know if you have the ability to look down and watch the people you love, or if you just disappeared and that was the end…but I hope you get to look down. Mostly though, I just hope I haven't completely disappointed you these past two years, you know? I've been trying, really I have. I don't know if I'll ever be 100% of the man you hoped I'd be, but I hope I've gotten closer.

"I, um…I'm moving today. To Boston. This'll be the first time in my life I've lived anywhere but here, and it's so scary but…I'm so excited. I don't know if I ever told you about that girl in middle and high school I had that big crush on or not, but…her name is Katniss Everdeen and I'm pretty sure I'm gonna marry her one day. Not quite yet, because I'm still such a mess, but someday soon. I'm pretty sure she'll say yes, too. Because we both want forever."

I rifle around in my pocket and pull out a tiny envelope. "I know you weren't so with the modern times sometimes, but I stopped by Walgreens on my way here and printed off one of the pictures of her and me from my phone—cool technology, huh? This was taken during our friend's wedding last month. She's pretty, isn't she? She's incredible, Dad. You would think she's 'the bee's knees', I'm sure of it."

I rub my palms along the undersides of my eyes and clear my throat. I'm still alone here, which is how I want it, but I still wish I weren't crying so damn hard. "I'm never gonna drink again, Dad. That chapter's done and over with. I'll be in recovery for the rest of my life, just like Mom, but every day is worth it when I have Katniss and my friends and work I enjoy. Every day is worth it, really, even though I still think gin tastes amazing."

I fiddle with the clasp on my necklace. Despite its protective resin, Annie was able to string my one year medallion onto the chain along with the rest of my chips, save for the green 3 month that Katniss still wears. I hold tight to the 1 year medallion and pull the others off the end of the necklace so they're scattered in my palm. On the side of all the headstones rests a metal flower-holder. I stand back up and drop the chips one at a time inside it.

"24 hours was the shittiest day of my life, but I was in the hospital the second time around, so that made the shaking easier to handle," I say as I drop in the first chip. "The first month was spent in rehab, so I didn't have distractions from the outside egging me on to drink again," I say as the red chip follows. "Two months—I'm amazed Katniss didn't leave me for what a bastard I was, Dad. But she believes in me, so she stayed. She has my three month chip, so this gold one will have to count for both those months. Then there's this blue one—six months—I've earned this one and the others twice, but I remember blue was always your favorite color, so I knew you'd like it." I fiddle with the purple chip briefly before it follows the others into the chalice. "This one I only earned once. It was the one I had to fight the hardest for. It was the one that was the most worth it to finally earn, except for this one that I'm keeping over my heart. I've been sober for one year, one month, six days, and a few odd hours, Dad. And I promise—I'm never drinking again."

I roll the photo of Katniss and I up and slide it into the chalice as well.

"I, um. I'm gonna leave this here with you. Not because I think you can really see it, I guess. But maybe, um…maybe someone will. A couple of someones. You were always the mediator between Ban and Rye and me, and I hate to use you to do that one more time but—well, they won't listen to me. And maybe Mom is right. Maybe sometimes relationships just end and can't be saved. Maybe I'm not supposed to have them as my brothers anymore. But maybe you'll be able to work some sort of crazy magic one last time. And if not, that's okay. I don't really expect you to. But it's worth a try.

"Dad, I love you so much. And I miss you every single day. I want you back so badly. I want you to have been able to get to know Katniss and our friends, see us get married, see our kids whenever we finally have them. I want to see you wear that hideous turkey tie one more time, or hear your voice when you're singing along to the oldies station while you knead the bread dough in the morning. It kills me that you can't do those things anymore. You've been gone two years, and I still want you back every single day. I hope that gets easier one day, because right now it just hurts. And I know you don't want me to hurt."

I sink down next to the headstone, no longer minding the dew on the grass, and pull my legs up to my chest. "I miss you, Daddy. I love you," I say again as completely new sobs overtake me.

I have no idea how long I stay like that. I don't have any more tears to cry by the time I feel the soft hand on my shoulder and jolt out of my reverie.

"Annie?" I gasp.

"I'm sorry, Peet, but Finnick and I were driving by to come to the house to help you guys and we saw Katniss's car at the entrance," she says softly.

"I…I…what time is it?"

"We called Madge. She says you left the house two hours ago. She and Katniss were starting to get a little worried and it's time to go pick up the trailer."

I sigh. My limbs are stiff and my eyes hurt every time I blink them. "I must have lost track of time."

"I don't blame you. I still like the name Ezekiel more than Ezra, I think. I wish you would have let me name the baby after your dad, you know," she says, sitting down next to me and studying my dad's headstone.

"Ezra is a good name. And the fact that you offered meant the world to me," I tell her, my voice scratchy.

"I know. We all wish we knew your dad, though. He raised such an incredible son…he must be so proud of you, Peet," she says softly.

"He was a great father," I say with a nod, unable to say anything more.

We're silent for a moment. Suddenly her fingers close around mine and she sighs softly before she begins to speak. She's not so much talking to me, though, as much as she is…just speaking.

"_Do not stand at my grave and weep _

_I am not there. I do not sleep. _

_I am a thousand winds that blow. _

_I am the diamond glints on snow. _

_I am the sunlight on ripened grain. _

_I am the gentle autumn rain. _

_When you awaken in the morning's hush _

_I am the swift uplifting rush _

_Of quiet birds in circled flight. _

_I am the soft stars that shine at night. _

_Do not stand at my grave and cry; _

_I am not there. I did not die._"

Her voice is surprisingly strong for speaking such sad words. I stare at the engraved print of my father's name as her words wash over me and take a shaky breath. Finally, she leans over and kisses my temple softly.

"Do you need another minute?" she asks.

"Just one more. But I'll…"

"We'll see you at the house, then. Madge says you should probably hurry, though, before Gale eats all the cinnamon rolls," she says. I finally smile up at her and chuckle softly.

"Thanks, Ann," I tell her.

"See you soon, sweetie," she replies as she turns on her heel and walks away.

I'm true to my word. I linger at my father's grave for a handful of minutes more before I get to my feet and brush off my trousers. I place my hand on the cold stone and smile softly.

"I know you're still with me, Dad. I love you."

My step feels a bit lighter as I walk back to the car and drive home for the last time.

* * *

After many arguments between Gale and Finnick about the best way to position the breakables, our trailer is packed with all our things, Tetris-style. Katniss slides the door closed and locks it.

"Stay for lunch at least, guys," Madge says tearfully. We can't turn her down, because even though we'd meant to already be on the road, all of us are dreading that final moment when we have to say goodbye. I hold Ezra in my lap and babble at him happily as we eat grilled cheese sandwiches and chips. Gale holds up his soda can like he is perpetually wont to do, and proposes a toast. It's short and sweet.

"Peeta…take care of my best friend, okay?"

"Take care of _each other_," Madge clarifies.

"Guys, they're moving, not dying. Let's refrain from waterworks quite yet, eh?" Finnick says, trying to sound cheeky. But he too has to swallow back emotion as we clunk our soda cans together for the last time for a while.

Katniss takes Ezra from me so I can get Sammy into her carrier. She hates the thing normally, but she's surprisingly compliant today. She pads over to me when I rub my thumb and forefinger at her and lets me stroke her neck. I pick her up and carry her to where I have the carrier placed on the kitchen island and place her inside. I try to hold her back when she attempts to slip back out of it, but she just nudges my hand softly with her head, purrs, and turns back around, allowing me to pinch the door closed. She's quiet as I carry the thing out to the car to place on the floor of the front seat.

The six of us look at each other hesitantly. We're given one last reprieve when we hear a car pull up and honk its horn at us. My mother still has the tendency to arrive at the last possible minute.

"Oh, thank God you haven't left yet," she breathes as she steps out of the car towards us. Everyone waves at her, and I offer her my embrace. I know my relationship with my mom will always be far from perfect—there are scars between us that will never entirely heal, but she's the only parent I have left. I love her. I'm going to miss her. I want to make her proud of me.

"I have something for you," she whispers to me quietly. She shoots a significant look to my friends, but they're busy hugging Katniss and trying to crack jokes to keep the mood light. Once she's satisfied they aren't paying attention, she reaches into her purse and holds out a tiny ring box. My eyes go wide.

"Mom, believe me, Katniss and I aren't ready…" I tell her hurriedly.

"It's not an engagement ring, sweetie. Open it and take a look."

I do. A simple gold wedding band glints in the sunlight. It's thick and was once well worn. I haven't seen it since I was 13, when my father took it off his finger and left it on the kitchen counter after telling me to put the broom back in the cupboard where I found it.

"You kept his wedding band?" I ask quietly.

"For whatever reason I couldn't quite part with it. My rings were a casualty of my drinking, but on some level, I knew one of you boys should have this. So I kept it safe for you, figuring you'd want it one day. I don't know if wearing a ring from a failed marriage is bad luck, but I think your dad would be incredibly honored if you'd consider wearing this whenever you and Katniss _are_ ready. He was a good man, Peeta. I wish I'd treated him better. I wish I'd loved him the way he deserved. But I'm happy you got him for as long as you did," she says wistfully.

I snap the box closed and drop the box into my cargo shorts before I pull my mother into my embrace again. "Thanks, Mom," I whisper into her ear.

Mom hugs Katniss and tells her to call her the second her baby boy gets out of line. Madge tells her she'll see her at the next Sunday meeting and I walk her back to her car. She kisses my forehead before she gets in and drives off, once again leaving me to say goodbye to my friends before we get into our own car and drive away.

"Think we can wrangle the six of us into a picture?" Annie says, shifting a cranky Ezra in her arms and pulling out her cell phone. We press together, each of us taking turns holding up our phones in front of us and snapping a shot. The one captured on Finn's is determined to be the best. Finally, Ezra get so cranky that all of us realize he's overdue for his nap, and Katniss and I will never make it to Boston before midnight at this rate.

I kiss the fussy baby's forehead and hug Annie tightly, thanking her again for what she did for me that morning.

Finnick tries to pull the 'man-hug' thing on me. He reminds us again he'll see us when he and the team come to Boston in October.

Gale hugs me full on and calls me not only 'brother', but also 'my friend'.

Madge holds it together surprisingly well. Maybe we both cried ourselves out that morning. But she and I still cling to one another a little longer than we would if I were just moving across town as opposed to across state-lines.

"Love you guys," I say, taking a hold of Katniss's hand as we turn towards our car.

"Text us as soon as you get there," Madge says, nestling herself into Gale's side.

"We will," Katniss promises before she rounds the side of her car to slide into the driver's seat. I buckle myself into the passenger seat and roll down the windows so we can wave and call out to them as she starts the engine. Ezra begins to wail in earnest from his place in Annie's arms. It pangs my heart, but I don't have it in me to cry again. Katniss, on the other hand, gasps quickly as she puts the car into gear.

"You want me to drive, baby?" I ask her. She shakes her head.

"No…I'm okay," she says with a sad smile.

We blow kisses to our friends and we watch them wave at us from the side-mirrors until we turn the corner for the last time. Our fingers twine together over the gearshift as Katniss drives us towards the highway. Sammy is silent in her carrier at my feet.

"I love you," I turn to her and say at the first stop light we have to yield at. She leans over the center console and kisses me passionately.

"Thank you for doing this," she says for the upteenth time.

"You don't have to thank me," I remind her.

"I love you, too," she says just as the light turns green.

* * *

"Hey, baby, can I smoke?" I ask Katniss about an hour into our drive. My smoker-scented car has been left behind, sold to a college kid on Craigslist last week, because Katniss's car is in better shape and we only need one car in Boston.

"Yeah, just don't make a habit of it, alright?" she says. I light up quickly, promising myself just the one as I roll the window all the way down and blow the smoke out into the rushing wind.

I try and think about where I was two years ago today. The memories of life pre-sobriety, pre-Katniss, pre-recovery are shiny at best, but I imagine I was out with Cato and Jo. This time of day we were likely two or three drinks in. Maybe we were playing pool, or watching some sports game on the bar's TVs while Cato tried in vain to set me up with one of the low-cut shirt wearing bartenders who rightly never gave me the time of day. Whatever we might have spoken of is gone from my immediate memory.

This time last year, my head was a cloud of anti-depressants and Antabuse. My friends stood by my side unyieldingly, the gorgeous woman next to me pulling me out of my funk slowly but surely, day after day. Words of love and devotion are not enough for what I feel for Katniss. She's my everything. She's my best friend. She's the love of my life and always has been.

I shift my legs as much as the cat carrier at my feet will allow, and feel the ring box in my cargo pocket press up against my thigh when it brushes against the center console. Katniss is driving with her left hand. For a second, I imagine a petite band of gold or platinum, whatever she might like more, encircling her fourth finger. It won't be this year, I'm sure, but one day it'll be there. I don't care if we don't share a last name, if we have a big wedding like Madge and Gale's or a tiny one like Finn and Annie's, so long as one day in the not too distant future, Katniss might agree to do me the honor of marrying me. Of making that a part of our forever.

When that day comes, I'm certain she'll say yes. I'm even more certain that my dad (and probably hers as well) will be looking down on us. Cheering for us. Loving us. Keeping us safe, the way only a father knows how.

I toss the butt into an empty soda can in the center console to toss the next time we stop for gas and roll the window back up. I can't move my seat back any farther for everything that's wedged in the backseat, but I lean my head against the seat and sigh contentedly.

"Penny for your thoughts?" Katniss asks.

"I was thinking about how lucky I am," I tell her honestly. "How lucky _we _are."

She smiles broadly, adjusting her sunglasses on her face and taking my hand. I raise her knuckles to my lips and kiss them surreptitiously.

"Don't start anything you can't finish, Mellark," she warns playfully. "We've got a long drive still."

"Maybe we ought to stop somewhere for the night, then," I say cheekily.

"Maybe you should keep it in your pants," she says, her cheeks flushing a bit. Somehow I know we won't make it all the way to Boston tonight. Our new home can wait one more night.

We're just about to cross the Virginia border when Katniss's phone rings. She hands it to me to answer for her, and I slide my finger across the screen that's illuminated with Gale's smirking face.

"What's up, man?" I say when I put the phone on speaker.

"How's the drive?" he asks.

"Uneventful so far," Katniss replies. "Did we forget something?"

"Nope…just, eh…baby, come here, let's tell them together."

Katniss and I share a curious look, like we already know what our friends are going to say.

"Guys?" Madge says, excitement dripping from her vocal chords. "You, um…you're going to be godparents."

* * *

_This is not their end - this is just their beginning._

_alltherightfriends dot tumblr dot com_

* * *

**There are some very important people I need to acknowledge if you'll allow me one more moment:**

_**annieoakley1, misshoneywell, nonemoreblack, **_**and _so-amazing-here_: Thank you for supporting this story to the point of pimping it out on Tumblr. I'm sure I caught a lot more readers because of you ladies than I would have otherwise, and for that, I am eternally grateful. You are spectacular. **

**Folks like _honeylime08, sothere, FamousFremus, TxDorA,_ _Loueze, just-a-dram, mrssherrange, _and _Billy_Crystal, _amongst many, many others that I can't think of off the top of my head because I'm kind of emotional right now: Thank you for being behind Recovery!Peeta every step of his journey, and leaving behind so much love on (almost) every single chapter.**

**In addition to these fine folks above, many more of you have sent me PMs and Tumblr mail telling me about how Recovery!Peeta's journey has impacted you personally, many of you with an alcoholic family member or friend yourself - thank YOU for sharing your stories with me. I want to keep you relatively anonymous due to the sensitive matter of our conversations, but your messages to me were powerful and insightful and helped me more in the process of writing and publishing this story than you know. I'm so glad I made Recovery!Peeta's journey believable for you folks in particular.**

**_megsonfire_: For being my fandom sister and one of my biggest fans - now that Recovery!Peeta is complete, I can't wait to jump even FURTHER into _Flesh and Bone _with you. ILY!**

_**Ro Nordmann**_**: For making me the most BEAUTIFUL banner for this beautiful story.**

**And finally, and here's the point where Kika becomes a sobbing, blubbering mess...**

**_sohypothetically -_ I remember sending the prologue of this story to you and you responding with "UGH. Another Katniss/Peeta wedding story, really?". I think I blindsided you with the alcoholism storyline in the first proper chapter and I was a little worried that would be the point where you tapped out...but instead you cheered me on, made me think critically about the decisions I was making for him, and kept me moving forward when I was ready to give up on this entire thing. I firmly believe that Recovery!Peeta is as much your baby as he is mine. You are so much more than a beta for me, and I will never be able to thank you enough for that review you left on _Destroyed _about my obsessive usage of commas. I love you dearly, S, and thank you from the bottom of my heart.**


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